To Lands Still Unknown
by Flaming Tigress Mage
Summary: -On Hiatus- It is the oldest of all tales told by the bards. A jaded tactician searches for his lost memories. A young girl seeks vengeance for her tribe. And together, they will birth the beginning of a legend.
1. Memories

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

This was inspired by a series of 150 prompts that I found while browsing around LiveJournal. I copied the prompts, and promptly lost track of the community. If anyone from said community finds this, I'd love it if you told me the name so I could get proper permission to use them. Until then, I'm only working off my own creative juices.

Oh, and I'm afraid that there's no set length for any of these prompts. I basically write until I think it's finished.

If you don't want to spoil all of Fire Emblem: Blazing Sword (otherwise known as FE7) or parts (including endings) of Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance and Fire Emblem: Radiant Dawn (known as FE9 and FE10, respectively), then I advise you to stop reading now.

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# 81 – Memories

_Ugh…my head…_ The man, groaning, began to sit up from a bed, brushing long strands of black hair out of his face. He looked around the tent. _Where…am I? What am I doing here?_

A woman with long, green hair in a ponytail entered the tent through the flap. "Oh, you're awake!" Putting down a tray she carried on a nearby desk, she sat next to the bed. "I found you unconscious on the plains," she explained. "I am Lyn, of the Lorca tribe. You're safe now." He glanced at Lyn curiously for a moment, before nodding. "Who are you?" Lyn asked. "Can you remember your name?"

_My name is…wait, my name is…_ "I can't!" he exclaimed. "I can't remember anything at all."

Lyn gasped. "I'm sorry," she said. "I…erm, I took the liberty of going through your things." As the man glared at her, she hurried to placate him. "Please understand! You have been unconscious for two days now, and I knew nothing about you, or what ailed you. Added to the fact that lying you on anything sharp or concealed might have hurt you… Anyways, there was nothing indicating who you were, or what you did. All I found was this." She handed the man a piece of parchment, which he unrolled. The parchment turned out to be a map, and well-worn. "I don't recognize the shape of the continent, or the language," Lyn told him.

The man rolled it up, and tucked it into his robes. "Does it look familiar to you?" Lyn asked anxiously. After regarding her with a cool look, the man finally said, "It does, but besides a sense of familiarity, it brings back nothing." Suddenly, his head jerked up. "That noise…" he murmured.

"I'll go see what's happening." Lyn had noticed it, too. "Wait here for me." She ducked out the tent flap, and the man swung his legs over the side of the bed. As he found a pair of boots – his, he assumed – he slipped them on and stood up.

Lyn slowly backed into the tent again. "Bandits," she hissed grimly. "They must have come down from the Bern Mountains. They must be planning on raiding the local villages. I... I have to stop them!" She strode to a corner of the tent, and picked up a sword, buckling it on. "If that's all of them, I think I can handle them on my own. You'll be safe in here," she told the man.

"No," the man said, shaking his head. "Such hubris only inevitably leads to defeat. How are you going to take on all of them by yourself?" Seeing her hesitation, he continued, "You'd best take me along."

Lyn seemed startled. "What? You want to help?" As he nodded, she continued doubtfully, "Well, can you use a weapon? I didn't see you carrying any." As she spoke, the image of the map flashed in the man's mind, this time with markers for troop movements drawn on it in detail. "No," he said with surety. "But from what little I can remember, I am a tactician."

"So, you're a strategist by trade?" Lyn regarded him appraisingly. "An odd profession but…very well. We'll go together!" She tossed the man a satchel, then walked towards the flap.

They exited the tent, and the man saw two bandits. Even looking around, he couldn't spot more. _So, she probably could have taken them by herself…but there's no need to rush headlong into battle._ "It is somewhat awkward, not having a name by which you can refer to me," he told Lyn. "So, until I regain my true name, call me Mark."

"Mark." Lyn rolled the name around in her mouth, as if tasting it. "It is a good name. If you want to help, Mark, I could use your advice. I'll protect you, so stay close to me." As the newly-named Mark nodded, his mind began planning out strategies. "You see the bandit closest to us?" he asked. As Lyn nodded, Mark told her, "Get close to him, then make him notice you. When he charges, take the opportunity to dodge and attack." As Lyn followed the advice, the bandit noticed her and charged.

Mark winced as the axe dug into Lyn's arm, even as she ran the bandit through. "Victory!" she gasped.

"You're injured," Mark said flatly. "Not much of a victory if you die."

"I have vulneraries in that satchel," she said, exhaling slowly. Mark dug through the satchel and pulled out a bottle of the potion. As Lyn wiped and sheathed her blade, he uncorked the bottle and spread a little on her arm. Sure enough, the wound closed up.

"Thank you, Mark," she said, wincing as the vulnerary took its effect. "There's still one more brigand left. Should we use the same tactics?"

"No," he told her. "That man can see us clearly, but he's not moving. You're going to have to go to him. Test his defenses, and strike when he's distracted. I can provide such a distraction," he added, looking at Lyn sidelong.

Lyn frowned. "No. I said I would protect you, and as you said, it's not a victory if one of us dies." She shook her head, then began running towards the hut where the last brigand was waiting, stationary. "Come on, Mark!"

Shaking his head and following her, Mark arrived to see Lyn engaging with the enemy. As he watched, she seemed to disappear, before cleaving the bandit's arms off, and slitting his throat. "That…that was close," she said, catching her breath. "I sorely underestimated him. Sorry if I worried you."

"You didn't," he told her. "I remember nothing of my life, but even I could tell that you outclassed that bandit. Even if you _did_ underestimate him. Don't do it again." Lyn nodded, chastised. "I'll need to be stronger if I'm going to survive…strong enough for no-one to defeat me," she said.

"The best of luck to you, then," Mark said. He rubbed his head distractedly. "While you're getting strong enough for nobody to defeat you, I think I need to lie down again."

"Of course," Lyn agreed. "I'll take you back to my tent." The instant they reached the tent, Mark fell into the bed and a deep slumber. It seemed like hardly an hour, when Lyn woke him.

"Is it necessary for you to disturb my rest?" Mark moaned. Lyn looked at him disapprovingly. "You haven't had anything to eat for three days!" she exclaimed. "And you slept through all of yesterday. Time to get up." She produced a bowl. "I made some soup."

As Mark shrugged off the remnants of his sleep and began to eagerly devour the soup, Lyn fidgeted. As he finished the bowl, he looked at Lyn. "Spit it out."

"Mark, I can see you have experience in the ways of war," she blurted out. "Would you allow me to travel with you?"

Mark sighed, and Lyn pressed her case. "You don't remember anything about yourself or your life, you said. It only makes sense for me to assist you while you regain your memories."

"If you want to go on a training journey, shouldn't you ask your parents?" Mark asked. "You're what, sixteen? Seventeen? You can hardly tell me that your parents would approve of you wandering the world with a man who doesn't even know where he's going." Lyn looked down. "My mother and my father... died six months ago," she said quietly. "My people -- the Lorca-- they don't... I'm the last of my tribe. Bandits attacked, and... they killed so many people."

Mark watched in fascination as she continued. "The tribe was scattered. My father was our chieftain, and I wanted to protect our people. I am so young, and my people are old-fashioned. They wouldn't follow a woman. No one would follow me!" she burst out. Lyn began to cry. Mark sighed. He knew he shouldn't take the girl with him. He had no idea of where he was going to go, and she seemed like the sort who would continuously ask about things to refresh his memory. But, some hidden memory lurked at the back of his head.

…_There's nothing to hide, is there?_

_They left? Both of them? Why did they – oh, I see. They left because of me, didn't they?..._

…_I'll be all right. Grief won't bring my father back to life. I know I've been a burden on the both of you…I just need to thank you both for staying here with me…_

Mark patted Lyn on the back, as she continued to bawl. _I may not know this girl…but something about her situation seems too familiar for comfort. And if she's with me, at least I'll have a capable bodyguard while I regain my memories._ "Fine. You can come with me, Lyn," he told her.

"I'm sorry…I've just been alone for so long. Forgive me…no more. No more tears." With one last sniff, she wiped the tears off her face with the back of her hand. "Thank you. I'm better now."

"You had better pack your stuff," Mark said. He stuck his head out of the tent. "It's right after daybreak. If we leave within the hour, we can probably make a good distance before night falls."

"I understand," Lyn said. She began grabbing stuff from around the tent and tossing it into her satchel. "I'm afraid we're going to have to sleep outdoors."

"That's all right. I've got a feeling that I'm used to it." Mark stood up and began helping Lyn gather things they'd need for a long journey. As they worked, Lyn smiled. "You'll be my master strategist, and I'll be your peerless warrior!" she joked.

_I need your tactical knowledge. I need your objectivity. You're not going to leave me, are you, –?_

"I won't leave you," he told her. While sorting through things (honestly, didn't the girl organize anything?) his hand landed on a silver-backed mirror.

"Oh, that's something my father bought for my mother, long ago," Lyn told him. Mark was busy studying his reflection in the mirror, though. Crimson eyes stared at a mark on his forehead, which he traced with a finger.

"I guess you wouldn't know what that was, given your amnesia," Lyn said. "I think I'm done here, Mark." Snapped out of his reverie, Mark nodded and prepared to leave, until he noticed a green cloak on the ground. He picked it up and put it on.

"But you're already wearing so much!" Lyn protested. "Aren't you hot?"

"Very," Mark agreed. "But something tells me…" He dropped the mirror and picked up a bag on his way out, lifting the hood of the cloak and covering his face. "Something tells me that I shouldn't let others see this mark."


	2. Quest

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Wow. Thirty one hits in one day? I'm flattered. Now, if only the review numbers would compare...

Unfortunately, when I said that there was no set length for the prompts last time? This is one of the reasons I felt it necessary to put 'no set length' at the beginning. The next one is, as well. Sorry.

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#100 – Quest

"I don't mind the red cavalier that much," Mark muttered to Lyn, with the strange sense that he was getting it backwards, "but do we really have to travel with the green one?"

Lyn laughed, only to cut it short as one of their newest companions, Kent, looked back inquisitively at them. "Sain says that there's an elderly lady up ahead," he told them. "She told him that the shrine was being attacked. What should we do, milady?"

Lyn paled, and Mark snorted. "Only you, Lyn. Only you would have the luck to visit this shrine on the exact date that it's being raided."

"We go to their aid," Lyn decided firmly. Mark sighed. "What are your orders, Mark?"

"Can you see any of the robbers?" Mark asked Sain as he rode back. Sain nodded. "Mostly axemen from what I could see, Lord Tactician," he reported.

"In that case, keep your sword at hand. If you get impaled this time, I'm not letting Lyn give you another vulnerary." Kent smirked at the reminder of their first (and latest) battle.

"There are steep hills over there, so your horses can't go in through the main entrance. Hmm…" Mark examined the landscape. "You two, talk to the locals. See if there's another way in. Lyn, use as much stealth as you can possibly possess to take out however many bandits you can, one by one." As Kent and Sain split off, Lyn and Mark began sneaking towards the main entrance.

"So, what do you really think about this 'Lady Lyndis' thing they're spouting?" Mark asked quietly. As Lyn looked back at him, startled, Mark shrugged. "Your posture around them is still tense. You watch them carefully whenever they make a move for their weapons, even if it's to help you out. You don't trust them, but about what?"

"Whenever anyone in my tribe mentioned my resemblance to my mother, it was because of my eyes," she told him, looking forwards again as they neared the entrance. "I find it hard to believe that anyone outside of Sacae would notice my eyes and their similarity to my mother's from such a distance." She snuck up on a bandit and slit his throat. As the other by the door turned, confused, Lyn drove her sword through his belly.

As she moved to enter the shrine, Mark held her back. "Wait for the others to enter, unless you want to be mobbed," he advised. "Kent and Sain will attract the most attention, and you can slip in quietly from there. So, you're saying it's unlikely that they are actually sent from Marquess Caelin? What could they be, then?"

"I don't know," frowned Lyn, as she continued her analysis. "And even if they were, Sain seems too unreliable to be a knight sworn to protect the granddaughter of the marquis. He's too flashy, too showy. I find it more likely that they were either hired by my great-uncle, or chosen specifically to make sure that I _was_ killed while coming, and to put the blame on the shoulders of those…those whom would not be missed, travelling on a quest for the marquis' half-Sacaen granddaughter."

Mark smiled indulgently. "So suspicious, milady. Is it really that improbable that these knights may actually be the protectors that Marquess Caelin sent to bring you to Caelin, safely?" As she stiffened at the moniker, Mark gestured to the wall in the shrine where dust was beginning to fall at a prodigious rate. "Just because a knight is a flirt and a showoff does not mean that he is ineffective."

As the wall exploded inwards, Sain thundered in, yelling as he cut a man down. As another attacked him from behind, his horse kicked, knocking the man over as Sain traded his sword for his lance and plunged it into the fallen man's belly.

As Lyn watched in fascination as the cavalier in front of her began to do battle, Mark nudged her. "Though unlikely, this quest of theirs may be legit," he told her softly. "Reserve judgment on them one way or another until you have reliable evidence. Oh, and I believe that's your cue." As she glared at him, Lyn ran into the shrine, stabbing a man who was trying to attack the mounted knights.

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EDIT: 10/07/08


	3. Contemplation

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Well, I'm happy that you're all reading this story and (hopefully) enjoying it, but I'd be even happier if I knew what you were thinking. Spare an author a review every once in a while?

And (in case you haven't figured out by now) although the dialogue is close, if not exactly the same as that in the game, the personalities of the characters are different. Tell me what you think.

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#9 – Contemplation

"Pst!" Mark woke almost instantly to the call, but as he began to blink sleep out of his eyes, he noticed that the hisser was speaking to his fellow knight.

"What is it, Sain?" Kent complained grumpily. "And aren't you supposed to be on guard duty?"

" When else do you suppose we'll have the opportunity to talk away from prying ears, my boon companion?" the cavalier in green remembered. "And Lady Lyndis has offered to relieve me of guard duty. She said that she felt restless." Mark almost groaned, before stifling it. How did the girl think she was going to function in the morning if she took both Sain's shift at guard duty and her own right after?

Kent seemed to share the same opinion. "You idiot! Lady Lyndis shouldn't be forced to take over your share of the work in addition to her own! If anything, it should be the other way around!"

Sain grinned sheepishly. "To be honest, Kent, she ordered me back to the camp." Mark sighed, remembering to make restless sleeping noises. What was so important that the two of them wanted to talk about even away from their 'lady'?

"So, what think you of our tactician?" Ah. _That_. Mark was fully awake now, and listening carefully. It was difficult to feign sleep while paying attention, but he managed it.

"That man…there is something strange about him," Kent allowed. "I cannot imagine what need Lady Lyndis would have had for a strategist on the plains. From what I have heard about the people of Sacae, their main concern is survival, not waging wars on each other."

"But what else could he be, then?" Sain demanded. "He has proven that he _is_, in fact, a strategist, and a skilled one at that. If the people of Sacae have no need for a tactician…" Sain broke off, and gasped theatrically. "You don't suppose that this 'Mark' could be Lady Lyndis' lover, do you?"

As Mark rolled over onto his robe (which was serving as a pillow) in order to stifle his gag reflex, Kent sputtered. "Him…milady…lover?" he choked.

Sain laughed and slapped the other knight's back. "Relax, Kent! They're way too stiff around each other to be lovers." As Kent sighed, Sain took the opportunity to rib him. "What, ho! Do I sense_ relief_ in your manner? Is someone interested in the lady for more reasons than one?"

"Hold your tongue, Sain," Kent said. Although he couldn't see, Mark expected that by this point, the knight's skin matched the color of his hair. "As the granddaughter of our liege, she deserves our respect."

"Whatever you say, Kent," Sain said, brushing him off. "But truly, there is something…different about Mark. Have you noticed that he keeps his cloak on all day, even though we are nearing the hottest moth of the year?"

"Perhaps he wishes to hide something from others," Kent mused. "Either way, Lady Lyndis has vouched for him, and he has not steered us wrong as of yet."

"But wearing that cloak all day!" Sain said, determined to continue the avenue of conversation. "Look, he's even wearing it now, to bed!" Mark snapped his eyes shut as the two turned to look at him. "I have not yet seen his face. Perhaps he is a murderer, or a thief, or some other form of criminal!"

"Actually, my forehead is disfigured," Mark said, tiring of their contemplation. They jumped as he sat up. "The mark is distinctive, and the fewer people who see it, the fewer people who can identify us to this Lord, Lundgren. And I do not wish to be gawked at in camp."

"How long have you been up?" Sain asked nervously. Mark smirked slowly, and both cavaliers shuddered. "How long do you _think_ I've been up?" he asked them. As Sain began to stammer incoherent explanations, Mark laughed. "Relax, knight. I did not wake up until you started speaking of my cloak." _After all, no point in letting them know what I know. I still don't trust them completely. _He looked from one to the other. "Why, is there something you spoke of that I _should_ know?"

"No," Kent said curtly, turning away from the tactician. "There was nothing important."

"Very well," Mark said, lying down. He mentally gave the knight three days to confess his feelings before Mark informed Lyn of them. It would be quite amusing to see the change in party dynamics after she knew how he felt, especially after insisting that he was much better than Sain was. "If you have nothing better to do than wonder at my features, such as _guard duty_," he hissed, making Sain flinch in guilt, "you can ask Lady Lyndis if I am a criminal or not. She has seen my face." Lying back down, he ignored their guilty whispers – they wouldn't speak up again, he knew, now that he had shown that he was awake – and settled down to his own contemplation of two knights who took the opportunity to hold secret councils apart from their lady.

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EDIT: 10/07/08


	4. Harrier

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Wow, guys. Over 150 hits and not a single review. Well, I'm pleased that you like it, especially since there are a lot of repeat visitors, so that has to count for something, right?

My only regret about the game was that it was never very realistic - people got over things and adapted to new situations very quickly - for example, the game version of the scene that I just wrote. For those of you who are confused, read on and tell me what you think.

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#58 – Harrier

"This place…the entire area is in ruins." Sain looked back at the rest of the company. "Why doesn't the marquess do anything to help?"

"Taliver Mountain is home to a gang of violent, ruthless bandits," Lyn told him. "No marquess holds power here."

"Taliver." Mark glanced sidelong at Lyn. "That's the name of the bandits who…" She nodded, and he dropped the subject. "We should press on. These ruins don't look that old, and there are still intact buildings left. The bandits might still be in the area, waiting to loot the last of the houses."

"I fear that you are right," Kent said grimly. "There seems to be some sort of commotion over there. Be on your guards." Lyn gasped. "That's a Pegasus! I think I know who the rider is!" She ran off.

"Ashera preserve us, that girl's going to get us all killed," Mark said, rolling his eyes as the knights immediately rode after her. He followed at a more sedate pace, in time to hear Lyn say, "Listen, she's obviously sorry. Can't we just let this pass? You don't appear to be injured or anything."

"No chance," the bandit she was talking to snarled. "The girl goes with us-- by force if need be! Hey! C'mon out now, boys! The men are fair game, but don't put a scratch on the girls!" As bandits began to pop out of the ruins, Mark sighed. "I hate it when I'm right," he remarked to no-one in particular, before issuing orders. "Kent, Sain! That wall's battered, but there's only room for them to come in one at a time. Cut them down as they get close. Lyn! Go visit that house over there – see if there's anyone willing to lend a hand. I don't like the looks of these numbers. You there!" The purple-haired girl Lyn had been protecting gasped. "Is that your Pegasus?"

"W…w…who are you?" the girl stammered out. Lyn gripped her shoulder. "Florina, this is Mark, our tactician. Mark, this is my friend Florina. She's shy around men, so don't scare her, okay?"

"Got it. Now, get to that house!" As she rushed off, Mark turned to Florina. "I have to know – can you fight around and with men?" The girl timidly nodded. "Y…yes, but it…it just makes me a bit nervous," she said. "And when you're…you're…" she trailed off.

"When I'm yelling like that, right?" Mark said. She squeaked and turned red. "Well, if it makes you more effective, I'll try to speak more softly. Meanwhile, your Pegasus can fly over these walls, right? I need you to visit that house," he pointed, "before the bandits get there. Warn them to bolt their gates, and then come straight back." As she mounted and flew off, Lyn returned, bringing a brown-haired man with her. "This is Wil," she introduced. "He offered to fight with us."

"I'm good with a bow," Wil added. Mark glanced around, making some quick calculations. _Kent and Sain are holding them off…for now. Their weapons are beginning to look worn._ "Is there an armory around here?" he asked.

"Yeah, right past that wall," Wil said. Mark sighed. "Then we'll just have to clear out these bandits as fast as we can, I guess. Go over to Kent and Sain – those are the cavaliers fighting at the wall – and assist them as best you can. All the bandits are crowded around the entrance – try taking out some of the ones at the back." As Wil sped off, Mark turned to Lyn. "I'm going to wait here for your friend," he told her. "Unfortunately, the size of the entranceway means that only a few people can fight, as well as only a few can try to get in."

"I'll stay with you," she told him. "As our tactician, you're the most important member of our group, and you don't have any defense until Florina gets back." He nodded and waited, watching as Wil reported to Sain (the one who was currently out of the bottleneck). Wil seemed to reach some sort of accord with him, and began firing arrows over the wall.

"Florina's back," Lyn pointed out. Sure enough, the Pegasus was winging its way back to the strategist. Florina landed and dismounted. "They thanked me and gave me some money," she told Mark, handing over a bag. As he looked inside, he realized that while all the coins were the same, he didn't recognize any of them. _Great…just another thing to worry about when I have the chance – counting money._

"Good work, Florina," he said instead. "Now, I need you to help out with taking out those bandits. With your Pegasus, you should be able to get the ones at the back, along with Wil." She followed his gaze and squeaked, before burying her face into her Pegasus' down. Mark frowned. "What's the matter?"

"Not only is she afraid of men, but Wil's got a bow," Lyn said, figuring it out first. "As a Pegasus knight, Florina's deathly afraid of bows." Mark sighed, and looked at the girl who was almost openly sobbing into her Pegasus' coat. "Lyn, go on ahead," he told her, passing her the moneybag. "Find out what they need replaced, and buy it once they break through." A yell arose, and Lyn and Mark turned to see Sain get grazed by an arrow. "Change of plans, get there, help defend, _now_!"

Lyn nodded and bolted, following orders, leaving the two of them alone. As soon as she was out of sight, Mark grabbed Florina's arm.

"W…wait!" the girl cried out. "What…are you doing?" She shrank under the tactician's scowl.

"You're a Pegasus knight, right?" he said. Florina nodded timidly. "Then why aren't you acting like one? There is an enemy out there, and it is your _duty_ to kill it before it kills you."

"I…I'm only in training," she finally said, trembling a little. "Please, let me go!" Mark ignored her, holding on to her wrist and studying her face. "You didn't tense up until I pointed Wil out," he continued. "But why? He's on your side."

"Please…" Florina begged. Mark snorted. "Are you afraid that he will hit you if you attack the same enemy he's attacking?" he asked. She looked down. "You do your comrades a disservice. What will you do, one day, when you're out on the field, and an archer points his bow at you, from either side? Are you going to just tense up and let them hit you? Are you going to flee from combat and let your comrades die?"

"I…I won't…I can't…" The girl seemed to be breaking down, and Mark leaned in closer. "Are you a songbird, little Pegasus knight?" he demanded. "Are you merely there to be an ornament to the scenery? Or are you a harrier, assisting your masters the best as you can, and bringing in the kill yourself?" He watched her turn away. "Are you nothing more than the pretty face that those bandits claim you are?"

"No!" Mark turned his head as Florina brought her hand around. "I said, let me go," she demanded, even though there was fear in her eyes.

Mark smirked and let her go, stepping back. "Then go out there, harrier, and help clear those men out of the bottleneck," he said. As she mounted and flew off, looking back at him in an expression that clearly stated 'I can't believe I just did that', Mark sighed and rubbed his face where she had hit him. _I may have deserved that, but she shouldn't have put me in the situation in the first place,_ he thought. _Hopefully there won't be any incidents like this one in the future._

Walking to rejoin the battle, he smiled as Florina swooped down and finished off an archer Wil had been distracting. _Harrier, indeed. But what stopped me from saying 'hawk', like I wanted to? Another mystery…This is beginning to get most bothersome._

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EDIT: 10/07/08


	5. Security

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Alright, I'm beginning to get a bit irritated. I appreciate it that you guys read my stories (and theoretically enjoy them since you keep on coming back for more), I really do, and trust me, I know _exactly_ what it's like to love a story, come back to read it more and more, and not leave a review. I've always held nothing but disdain for authors who think that it's acceptable to blackmail their readers into reviewing before they update.

But seriously. 250 hits and not a single review? A girl could feel unloved. So, instead of putting up some kind of blackmail or something equally ridiculous, I've decided that instead, if I manage to have a review before we hit 300, I'll write something special (outside of the prompts) for between Lyn's story and Eliwood/Hector's Story.

That said, I hope you enjoy this chapter, as always.

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#112 – Security

"Damn," Mark muttered as Kent delivered the news of bandits. "Can't we get a single day without this scum showing up?"

"Look at it this way, Mark," Lyn told him. "At least when they attack, it's that fewer scum on the face of the planet." Florina giggled, even as Kent looked on disapprovingly.

"Alright, listen closely. This is a defensive engagement," Mark told the group, newly named "Lyndis' Legion". _Note to self – don't give Sain the opportunity to name things in the future._ "Our objective is to ensure that nobody gets into this ruin and go for Natalie. Kent, Sain!" The two stood at attention. "Mount up and guard the southern entrance. There's enough room for the two of you to work together, and not enough for the bandits to get by.

"Lyn, I want you at the eastern entrance. There aren't that many fighters there, but they might just try to get in while we're preoccupied with the front. The western wall is cracked, and if I know bandits, they're going to try to break it down. Wil, I want you shooting anyone who comes near the wall. Florina, you're with me as backup, to guard Natalie. Once the main bulk of the bandits are gone, I trust you to use your discretion as to whether or not you can pursue them without letting any more in." Mark glanced at the sky. "If they decide to pull back before nightfall, we're not equipped to pursue them. Smash them so they don't cause a problem for us in the future."

As the group moved to do as he said, Mark moved into the main room, where Natalie was sitting. "Don't worry. By tomorrow morning, the bandits will be driven off, and you can go on searching for Dorcas," he told her. "Florina, do you have tinder on you?" Wordlessly, she produced a box, which he used to light a few stray branches in a firepit. "Thank you."

"Why did you…keep me out of battle?" she demanded. "I can…I can fight as well as the rest of them! Is this about what happened last time?" Mark sighed and leant back against the wall. "A few reasons," he told her. "Firstly, no, it's not about what happened last time. I trust that you won't make that mistake again." As she flushed, Mark continued. "I need you here as backup for both the eastern and the western entrances. No matter how many of them Wil takes out, there's still a chance that they'll break through the wall. If they do, I need you to back him up."

"Then why not send me out there?" the girl demanded. Mark was about to respond, when the sound of metal scraping against brick became clearer and clearer. "That's why," he said grimly. "Lyn's either been overpowered, or she's left the entrance undefended. East entrance, now!" Paling, Florina mounted up and flew out.

"You command the rest, yet you are so _young_!" Natalie exclaimed. "I cannot see your face, but I can tell by your voice," she explained as Mark glanced at her appraisingly.

"I'm a tactician by trade," he explained. "All I do is give the strategies. This group's leader, however, is inexperienced, and so she defers to me." Mark paused as a voice called, "Hello? Natalie? That girl said you were in here…"

"Dorcas!" Natalie exclaimed, attempting to get to her feet. A large, red-haired man entered the room, embracing the woman. "That green-haired girl, she told me you were in here," Dorcas said. "I had to come and see if you were all right."

"That axe…" Mark mused. "Tell me, Dorcas, are you a fighter?" Dorcas released Natalie and nodded. "That same girl said I should report to Mark, and he'd tell me where to go. You're defending my wife, the least I can do is help out. Are you he?" he asked.

"I am," Mark replied. He thought for a moment. _Florina's covering the eastern entrance. Lyn's probably sneaking up on the enemy from outside as we speak, so that helps cover the southern entrance._ "Is that a hand-axe?" he asked.

"Oh, so you've seen them before. Yes, it is." Mark nodded. "Right, then. I need you to go to the western wall to assist Wil in taking down the people attempting to break through the wall. If they manage to break it down, stay between him and the main fighters, and he'll back you up. If he questions you, tell him Mark sent you." With one last lingering glance, Dorcas left the room. Mark sat down in disgust, staring into the flames. _Another happy couple…another happy pair to take care of each other…but why is it so repugnant to me?_

"Are you all right, master tactician?" Natalie asked, sitting down next to him. Mark inclined his head. "You know," she mused, "I was incredibly lucky to find Dorcas. When I was young, I was left alone, because of my disease. Even though it wasn't contagious, every other child avoided me, for fear that they would catch my disease. Because I couldn't run or move quickly, I was never able to enjoy children's games, or socialize with my peers. Even adults shunned me, thinking I was a disgusting cripple who deserved none of their goodwill or pity."

"But then he came out of nowhere, and ignored what everyone said about you. He brought you home with him, and defended you against the verbal barbs of others. He became your first friend…and your most precious person," Mark continued.

"And then he asked me to marry him, yes. How did you know? Is this part of your intellect?" Natalie was astounded. Mark sighed, shaking his head. "Something very similar happened to me in my youth," he explained. _But what happened? It's all so familiar…I wish I could remember…_

Natalie was kind. She didn't ask him what had happened, or who his precious person was. She simply put an arm around him, and hugged him. Tensing up, Mark froze, but as she didn't stop, he reluctantly leaned into her hug.

They were the two most vulnerable members in the castle. Neither could defend the other from an attack, and the sounds of battle rung throughout the walls. At any careless moment, a bandit could overcome or dodge a defender and cut them both down. But at that moment, with a person who understood what he had gone through in his past, staring into the small fire side by side, Mark had never felt such a sense of security in his life.

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EDIT: 10/07/08


	6. Darkling

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Well, thank you for the reviews! I'll have to make sure to think up something nice to write for the in-between arcs period. If anyone wants to suggest something, I'd be grateful.

In the interest of not filling up the Author's Note with more words than the prompt, I put my responses to your reviews on my LiveJournal (which is my homepage under my user). You can read those there. Enjoy!

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#18 – Darkling

"So, I hear that you offered to hire Natalie's husband," Lyn said, sliding into the sleeping bag next to Mark's. "What brought this on, mister 'I'm apathetic to your situation unless I get something out of it for myself'?"

"I _am_ getting something out of it – a reliable axe-user, which none of you are," Mark pointed out. At Lyn's frown, he sighed. "Something Natalie said reminded me of my past, all right? I figure that if I can engage her husband in free conversation about her life –"

"– Then you'll figure something out about your own," Lyn completed. Mark scowled. "I don't need you finishing my sentences, 'Lady Lyndis'," he said.

"Cut that _out_ already," Lyn said, sighing. "It's bad enough coming from the cavaliers and Wil, I don't need it from you or Florina. And speaking of which…"

"Speaking of what?" Mark asked, a sinking feeling forming in his stomach. He hadn't _thought_ that Florina would be the type to tell on him to his commander, but it was entirely possible that she had. Or perhaps Lyn had noticed on her own?

"What did you do to Florina yesterday?" Lyn demanded. "One minute, she's cowering by her Pegasus away from Wil, and I think that I'm going to have to tell her to leave the battlefield until she can overcome her phobia. You send me off to buy something, and the next time I see her, she's stabbing bandits more viciously than I've ever seen her act!"

"Perhaps she had a change of heart?" Mark suggested. At Lyn's glare, he defended himself. "What, that's not possible for a friend of yours to start acting differently without _my_ intervention?"

"I _know_ Florina," Lyn insisted. "She crashed trying to get her Pegasus to land the first time I met her because a group of the Lorca's archers were aiming at her, unsure if she was a friend or foe. She wouldn't go anywhere _near_ the practice areas, even _without_ Huey. Her Pegasus," she explained at Mark's inquiring look. "Florina's been terrified when it comes to archers ever since I met her three years ago, and she was petrified when you sent me off yesterday afternoon – _before_ you talked to her."

"Do you dislike the change?" Mark asked. Lyn pulled an arm out of the sleeping bag and shoved him. "That's not what I meant, and you know it. You did _something _to her, something that not only overrode her fear of archers – which I _do_ agree is a good thing – but also is causing her to glare every time she _looks _at you. Florina _never_ glares at people. She's one of the most cheerful, caring people I know."

Mark sighed. "All I did was ensure that her rage at my words overcame her fear of archers. I admit to saying a few cruel things to your friend, and I…" he choked out the words, "I am sorry. But unless she overcomes her fear in order to fight, she'll never be trusted enough by her commander to send her into battle."

"_What_ did you say to Florina?" Lyn demanded. Her eyes, previously friendly, were now burning with rage, the emerald color appearing to fade to a dull black in darkling. She gripped Mark's arm, nearly bruising it with the force of her grasp.

"I merely demonstrated –"

"_What_ did you _say?_"

"Is…is everything all right?" Both of them looked up. Florina stood in front of them, a sleeping roll tucked under her arm. "I heard raised voices…and I thought…"

"Nothing much, harrier," Mark said, smirking at Lyn's incensed look of rage at the nickname. "Lyn's just being protective." As he predicted, Florina stiffened at the words. "Thank you, Lyn," she said quietly, "but I can fight my own battles."

"Florina, tactician or no, if Mark's done anything to hurt you…" Lyn warned, trailing off.

"I…I did worse to him," she murmured. "And to you…by not being able to fight when you needed me. All Mark did…all he did was give me a wake-up call."

Lyn looked inquiringly at Mark, still suspicious. In response, he pulled back the hood of the cloak so she could clearly see the slap-mark, which had not yet faded. "Florina…" she gasped.

"I…I am a Pegasus knight-in-training of Ilia," the lilac-haired girl said. "I should…be able to defend myself. Me too…I'm done hiding behind others, Lyn. It's my turn to protect you…and protect you I will, as long as you'll have me."

Lyn finally released her grip. "It seems as if I owe you an apology, Mark," she said slowly. Mark sighed. "No, you only wanted to protect your friend," he said. "I can understand completely. After all, he stood in front of a tiger…for…" Mark trailed off. "Stood in front of an attacking tiger for me," he said quietly. "But who _is_ he? And why a tiger?"

"Um…Lyn? Mark? What are you talking about?" Florina had unrolled her sleeping roll right next to Lyn's, and was lying down on her other side.

"Mark has amnesia," Lyn told her. "He can't remember anything at all. Mark isn't even his real name."

"Please avoid telling that to others in the future," Mark said. "I would prefer if few people, either inside our group or out, knew of my weakness."

"Which one?" muttered Lyn. "Your acerbic tongue? Your blunt frankness? Your inability to wield a weapon?" Florina laughed softly, and Mark sighed, deliberately turning his back on them as the last embers of the fire died out. Darkling in sight but not in mind, he listened to the two women fall asleep, and attempted to do the same.

* * *

EDIT: 10/11/08


	7. Clarion

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

So, here's how it goes. I finished my latest prompt, and then Word decides that it's fun to fail on me. When I get it back from the recovery, it's only half-done. So, I finish it again, in a different way this time, and put off saving it - only to find out that my computer restarted overnight, and it's left at the half-way point. At this point, I'm having trouble finishing the prompt - I'm just too frustrated. I do plan on having it done on time, though.

Not exactly sure if this one quite fits the prompt, but...eh. Enjoy!

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#7 – Clarion

"Thank you for the journal, Florina," Mark said, tucking the leather-bound book into his robes. "I'll make sure to take notes on our finances, additional members, and such in it."

"You're welcome…Mark," Florina said. She was walking Huey, as apparently Pegasi needed their exercise by walking as well as by flying. Mark supposed it was useful if the knight was ever grounded, and so had given the go-ahead readily. "But really…that's not necessary if you want to take down tactical knowledge. I thought…" she looked down. "I thought that you could write down anything that you remembered."

Mark blinked at her. "I'll be sure to treasure it, then," he said, meaning every word. He remembered little, due to his condition, but he was pretty sure that nobody had ever done anything so…_personal_ for him before. It saddened him that nobody _had_ at the same time it delighted him that someone _was_ doing such a thing now.

"Lycia at last!" he heard Sain blurt from the front. "It's been a long time. Tomorrow, we'll dine on a feast of Lycia's finest foods! And the mistress of the inn at the crossing is said to be a beauty. Ah, yes..." Mark tuned out the rest of the speech at that point, as Kent reprimanded the knight and Lyn defended him.

"Ah! We'll finally be able to get a good night's sleep," Florina said, obviously listening as well. "Oh!" Over the next hill and through the trees, axe-wielding figures began to pop up.

"Those bandits are persistent, I'll give them that much," Lyn groaned.

"And to think I had hoped we could go one day without someone having to wash the blood out of their weapons…oh well. It can't be helped. Lyn, if you want to negotiate with the bandits, you can try, but you might as well cut down the approaching one now. It's not like he'll listen to anything you say," Mark finished, as Kent glared at him. "What? It's the truth."

"You're encouraging the lady to mindless bloodshed," Kent snapped.

"No, that's the _bandits,_" Mark explained patiently. "If you want to blame someone for making the lady fight, blame _them._ Better yet, run your sword through some of them. Of course, maybe if you explain it carefully to them, it will teach them a lesson. We can all get through this by making and exchanging daisy chains in the end." Wil snorted, and Mark saw him covering a grin.

Suddenly, a loud noise rang out. Florina winced, and Wil commented, "Why would anyone be practicing a musical instrument at _this_ time of day?"

"No, Wil," Mark said, trying to keep himself from snickering. "Although extremely high-pitched, that noise was one of a scream." He looked at Lyn, as she came back from talking with the bandit, frustration clear on her features. "I _should_ have just cut him down then and there," she muttered.

"No, your compassion and willingness to negotiate is becoming of you," Kent assured her. Mark grimaced. _Sure, encourage her to talk to the people who would cheerfully run her through without a second thought. I'm going to have to tell Lyn about Kent's little crush as soon as possible – make sure his praise doesn't go to her head._ "That scream came from somewhere in this forest," he said finally. "Florina, fly up and see if you can find the screamer. Ground yourself if archers try to attack. Kent, Sain. Your horses will have trouble going over the hills and through the forests. Take the path to the north instead."

Sain was about to protest, but Mark cut him off. "Don't look at me like that! We can't afford to move in a big group, which is what they'll be expecting. Take them by surprise while we make lots of noise. Lyn, Dorcas, Wil, with me through the forest. Once Florina finds the source of the scream, she'll rendezvous with us and we'll see what's happening and offer assistance if necessary."

"Sounds like a plan," Lyn said. "Let's move!" As the group began to disperse, Mark noticed that Kent was glaring at him. _Possessive much?_ Lyn was about to take point, but Mark motioned her back, instead letting Dorcas lead. "What are you planning to do about Kent?" he asked quietly.

Lyn blinked at him in astonishment. "What do you mean, do about Kent?" she responded. "It's not like he's Sain, hitting on every girl who passes by. So far, I have seen nothing but dedication and hard work from him."

"That's because unlike Sain, who hits on everything female in sight, Kent has narrowed his focus." At her blank look, Mark sighed. "The man is head over heels in love with you, Lyn. Please tell me that you at least suspected it?" By her sputtering, she had not. He watched with a pleased smile as Lyn slowly began to piece together everything Kent had done in her presence, and begin to narrow her eyes in suspicion. "What would _you_ do if you were in my situation?" she suddenly asked.

"About the crush? I'd tell him I wasn't interested in annoyances that way." He continued to smirk even as Lyn whacked him over the head. "Not that!" she complained. "How am I supposed to tell what he says truthfully apart from what he says to please me?"

"Hold on." Florina was swooping down, and Mark motioned her over to their group. She landed as the rest of the group gathered around her. "There's a pink-haired girl and a purple-haired boy being attacked by an archer," she said. "By the looks of it, the archer is a bandit. What do you want to do?" Lyn turned to Mark, who shook his head. "It's your call, Lyn. I may know about war, but you're our commander." He paused, frowning at a sudden thought. "…_Someone's_ jealousy has reminded me of one important thing – you're the leader. All I should be doing is offering suggestions."

As Dorcas and Wil looked at him curiously, Lyn bit her lip. "If they're being attacked by the bandits, then the least we can do is help, if for no other reason than to take down the bandit that's attacking them. Let's move, quickly!" As she finished, she began to run through the trees. Mark turned to Florina as the rest began to follow Lyn. "Three people should be enough for one archer, and we shouldn't get you too near your greatest weakness," he said. "Cavaliers are to the north, we're heading east. You can either head to the south and by that lake we saw, flying over it, or you can fly to the north to provide assistance to the knights. Your choice." Florina looked uncertain for a moment, then nodded, taking off. Mark ran to catch up with the rest.

"So tell me, will you join arms with us?" Lyn was asking as Mark caught up, panting heavily. The pink-haired girl who Florina had spoken of nodded, clutching a staff. "Yes, we'd be glad to!" she chirped. "This is my escort, Erk. Be a good boy now, and go fight now, Erk." _Is he an escort, or a pet dog?_ Mark found himself thinking wryly even as the purple-haired boy sighed.

"Hello," the girl greeted as he neared her. "You're Mark, right? I'm Serra."

"Nice to meet you, Serra," Mark said. "I take it that you'll be fighting with us. That staff…" He paused, and looked at it closely. "That's a Heal staff. Are you a cleric?" Serra started. "Yes, I am," she answered. "However did you know?"

"It's my job to know these things," he said, as he pulled out the journal Florina had just given him and jotted down 'Cleric his sister? Who is 'he'?' "It's good to have a healer on our team. Now we don't have to be as afraid of running out of vulneraries."

"Anyways, you see this contrary mage here with me?" she asked. "His name is Erk. He was wounded by that arrow. I'm Erk's employer. You might even call me his 'Master'!" Erk, now identified as a mage, had his head in his hand, and looked very close to screaming. It was all Mark could do to keep himself from laughing at the mage's plight.

"What I'm getting at is," Serra continued, "I was thinking of healing him free of charge." As Mark looked at her incredulously, she laughed. "I know, I know, I'm generous to a fault."

"I did _not_ get paid enough to put up with this," Erk muttered. Mark smiled, while inwardly all his alarms were going off. _Clerics are _supposed_ to heal free of charge. Does this girl think that we're going to _pay_ her for every person she heals?_ "Well, that is indeed…_generous_ of you, Miss Serra," he responded cautiously. "I can only pray that someone of your limitless beauty will continue her boundless generosity towards these unfortunate fighters."

Serra giggled nervously, beginning to blush. "Of course I will!" she agreed hurriedly. "Let me show you my skill!" As she dragged Erk off to (presumably) heal him, Lyn sidled up next to Mark. "'Limitless beauty' and 'boundless generosity'?" she murmured. "What do you think you're doing?"

Mark shrugged. "It worked well enough on that one shopgirl," he responded. "I flirted with her enough, and she cut all my purchases down to half-price, and got every other store to give me a similar discount." Pausing for a moment, he pulled out the journal and wrote in it. "Remind me to get something nice for Florina," he remarked.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN I'M NOTHING SPECIAL?!" Mark winced as he continued to write. "Even if she's not a good cleric, at least we have a reliable trumpet to signal charges and such."

* * *

EDIT: 10/11/08


	8. Zephyr

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Well, I managed to get that prompt finished. I'm a bit disappointed with it, though - the last revision was _much_ better.

Everything I postulate about the nature of magic, or tomes, I made up on the spot. Enjoy!

* * *

#146 – Zephyr

"Why did you suggest to Lady Lyndis that she should agree to let those two travel with us?" Wil asked, snapping Mark out of his musings. They had just made camp, and he had been writing down everything from before in the journal. "Serra and Erk, you mean?" he asked.

"Yeah. After all, we don't know them at all, and they have no reason to suddenly break off from travelling to Ostia for traveling to Caelin." Mark snorted. "Oh, those two have ample reason – at least, that girl does." At Wil's blank look, he elaborated. "That idiot Sain can't keep his mouth shut around a woman to save his life, and probably told her that Lyn was Marquess Caelin's granddaughter. Serra probably relished any opportunity to impose herself upon nobility, and attempt to impress them.

"As for her escort, he's probably signed a contract with her. No matter how desperately he wants to break it, if he wants any reputation among people willing to hire him, he'll stick with her."

Wil stared. "How do you know all this?"

"I've had to judge people's characters in the past," Mark remarked. "But even if I hadn't, their motivations are painfully obvious." He pointed out Serra, who was forcing Erk to set up her tent. "She enjoys having power over others, and he puts up with her for _some_ reason."

"But all of that doesn't explain why you told Lady Lyndis to let them come!" Wil protested. Mark sighed. "That girl is scarily obsessed with being like nobility," he remarked. "She may be meeting with some of them in the near future. And even if not, she had to get the money to hire an escort – especially a mage, not just an average mercenary – from _somewhere_. As we save her life, her ploy will backfire – she will instead be indebted to _us_."

"That's cold," protested the archer.

"I'm a cold person," Mark replied. "Besides, she deserves it for trying to take advantage of the group." A shout from the other side of camp indicated that the cleric had hit her escort with her staff. "And that poor mage."

"Set up your own Elimine-cursed tent!" the aforementioned mage shouted, stomping over to the fire where Mark and Wil were conversing. "Mark, _please_ tell me you have something for me to do," he begged. "Something _away_ from that harpy?"

Mark sighed. "The things I do for the good of the group," he said to no-one in particular. "Wil, Sain's fishing, right?" At the man's nod, Mark said, "Suggest to him that it would impress our newest member if he set up her tent, would you? You can take over his fishing duties."

"_Thank_ you," Erk said with feeling. He began to fidget as he was treated to one of Mark's grins. "Why do I have a feeling I just jumped out of the frying pan into the fire?"

"You didn't, really," Mark told him. "But speaking of fire, I'd like to get a look at that tome of yours. It reminded me of something, and I wanted to check it out." Erk shrugged and pulled out the book, passing it to Mark. _He was probably relieved that I didn't ask him to do something harder,_ Mark thought.

"Curious," he said aloud instead. He flipped the book open and began looking over the runes inside. _I…don't know these. Why did I think I would?_ He finally closed the book and put his hand over it, closing his eyes at the same time. For a moment, he thought he felt a brief spark of heat from the cover, but when it didn't continue, he realized he _must_ have imagined it.

"Sorry," he said, passing the book back to Erk. "I didn't know what I was thinking." _Actually, I did. I thought that I'd feel a zephyr of some sort. But why would I have felt anything? This amnesia is too much trouble…_

"It's no problem, Lord Tactician," Erk said, taking the tome back. "Now, if you'll excuse me?" He rose.

"Oh, no. You're not getting out of your obligations that easily," Mark said. If he couldn't satisfy his memory-starved thoughts, he could at least take it out on the nearby population. "You get to help Dorcas haul wood back to the campsite." Erk paused, and looked down at his skinny build, before looking at Mark skeptically. Mark smirked. "Get to it," he said cheerfully.

As Erk stalked off, muttering something about "Knew it was too good to be true," Mark stretched out on his sleeping roll, making a note about getting his own tent. Perhaps he'd set Erk to setting it up and keeping it on that pack mule Serra seemed to own. The thought '_Serves that Fire-mage right for being such a brat'_ briefly flashed across his mind before Mark forgot all about it.

* * *

EDIT: 10/11/08


	9. Kindle

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Well, I have the vague beginnings of an idea for my promised extra. As I continue to flesh it out, I'll mention more about it.

I believe that this is the prompt that I've had the most fun writing so far. Enjoy!

* * *

#75 – Kindle

"What shall we do, Mark? We don't have any keys with us," Lyn said, twisting her hands and looking at the burning building. "Perhaps some of those marauders are carrying keys…?" Mark stared at her for a moment. _Such an atypical response from the girl I've just begun to figure out…_

"If the switches were there because the men of Araphen needed a way into the castle in case of an emergency, they would probably have hidden it in the nearby houses," he responded. "The brigands have probably picked up a key here and there, as well. "Let's spread out and search for those switches," he said, raising his voice. "We have no clue where they're located, so cover as far into and around the castle walls as you can. We should probably travel in pairs, as well, to ensure that nobody's ambushed." He glanced at Lyn. "We should also check every house, in case we can find a key. Sound like a plan?"

Lyn nodded, and Mark began to divide the groups up. "Kent and Sain…Wil and Dorcas…Florina and Serra…Lyn and Erk – "

"I can work with Rath," Lyn volunteered quickly, and Mark suppressed the urge to groan. _Ashera, fools in love._ He took a quick glance over at Kent, who was glaring murder at the nomad, and another glance at Lyn, whose face was twisted into…triumph? "Fine, Lyn and Rath, Erk and Serra instead." He tried to ignore the look on Erk's face which clearly asked 'Which saint did I murder in a past life' and turned to Florina instead. "Guess it's you and me, then."

"Alright, let's move!" Lyn started to head out for a house, Rath following closely. As everyone else began to disperse, Mark sighed. "You know, it would be so much easier if she hadn't decided to develop that ridiculous crush."

"What…what ridiculous crush?" Florina asked, her Pegasus pawing the ground anxiously. Mark pointed at their glorious commander. "Of all the times to kindle romance…" he grumbled. "Come, Florina. We'll check that red-roofed house."

As they entered the house, Mark looked around. "Looks deserted…" he murmured. "Let's see if we can find a key."

"No need," said a voice from the shadows. Mark spun around, heart racing. "Ashera take it, Volke!" he yelled.

"Volke?" asked the sandy-haired man. "Who's that?"

Mark sighed. "Nevermind." He pulled out the journal and wrote down the name. _First name I can remember…why do I feel so depressed about that?_ "What is it?"

The man stared at the journal for a couple of seconds, then shrugged. "I'm Matthew, a specialist in…acquisitions, of all kinds. How would you like to buy my services?"

"A…a thief, then? Why would we need you?" Florina asked. Matthew chuckled. "If not for me, how do you plan on opening the barrack doors?" he asked.

"What?" the Pegasus knight exclaimed. "How did you –"

"Bullseye!" the thief exclaimed. Florina reddened at having given their motivations away, and Matthew grinned. "Aw, don't be upset," he said. "Hire me. For you, I'll even lower my usual rates."

"Why us?" Mark interrupted. "Why not the marauders out there?"

"Well, I was watching the battle from up above, and your group looked a lot more fun than the dead guy's!" Matthew said. "Pretty simple, really."

"You're a lot cheerier than most of the rogues I've known," Mark remarked. "Alright, you're hired. We'll pay you after the castle's been liberated." Matthew gave the two of them a thumbs-up, and disappeared out the front door.

"We could…we could have found the keys…on our own," Florina said reproachfully. "We didn't need…to stoop to hiring a thief."

"It isn't simply that, Florina." Mark favored her with a serious look. "Haven't you been listening to the gossip around town?" As she shook her head, Mark sighed. "The marquess apparently _hates_ nomads," he explained. "The only reason he puts up with that Rath fellow is because the man is firmly under his thumb. I'm willing to bet that as soon as the marquess sees our dear, obviously Sacaen Lady Lyndis, he'll withdraw whatever offer of support he had planned on giving."

"You…you can't be serious!" Florina was horrified. "Can't you believe that the marquess is…that he is a good man? I'm sure he wouldn't do anything of the sort!"

"Not according to local gossip," Mark said. "And that's where our newfound friend Matthew comes in. If we get _him_ to steal from the castle in the ruckus that the fire has caused, no blame will be placed on Lyn's shoulders. After all, she'd never even met the man. Plus, the funds from the items will go into our coffers, so in the end, we'll have an equal amount of support to what we would have gotten from someone less bigoted." He shrugged. "And you heard the thief. He _wanted_ to steal from the castle, anyways. He'll be easy to control with money."

"You're horrible!" Florina protested. "He's right...right outside the house, and you're saying such things!" She took a quick glance out of the window to check that the thief was, indeed, outside the house where he couldn't hear them.

_He is a dubious character at best, but at least we know his motives. Everything begins and ends with gold. He'll be easy to control._

–_, he's standing right there._

_I don't think he minds._

"I don't think he'll mind," Mark said casually. "Let's inform Matthew of our plans, shall we?" Without waiting for a response, he swept out the door.

"What is that woman doing here?" Matthew muttered as Mark came out. "I cannot let her find it…or _recognize_ me, for that matter…"

"Ah, then, we both have something we want!" Mark said cheerfully. _This is even better than controlling him with gold._ Matthew spun. "Ah, sir, I didn't see you there!" he said nervously.

"Now, whyever would you be scared of our beauteous cleric?" Mark asked, smirk firmly set in place. "Might it be because…she knows you from somewhere, and is likely to tell the whole group who you are?" By the thief's subtle twitch (which, Mark was pleased to note, a lesser man would have missed), Mark knew he was correct. Of course, it might have also been from calling Serra 'beauteous'.

"Of course, I have a solution to your problem," the strategist continued. Matthew glanced nervously at Serra, who was coming closer. "Let's hear it," he said reluctantly.

"Why, the answer is simple," Mark said. "You only have to slip into that castle and steal the treasures in it – something, I am sure, you were planning on doing anyways. You will then continue to travel with us until our…patron reaches her home." By Matthew's slight relaxation, Mark knew the thief would have made plans to travel with them anyways. He would have to be watched. "But it's not just that," he continued. "You will do this all…_for free._"

"What?!" the man exclaimed. "My dear friend, you can't be serious." He turned to leave. "Ask for me in a tavern when you decide you can be reasonable about my talents."

"Oh, Serra!" Mark waved the cleric over, and watched as Matthew's face grew paler. The girl skipped over, followed by her escort. "Mark! You needed me?" She peered at Matthew. "Do I know you?" she asked curiously.

"I agree!" the thief hissed in Mark's ear. Mark smiled, and said, "Of course you've seen him, Serra! This man was in the market right before the fire was kindled. He was so stricken by your beauty that he agreed to come along and open the doors to the castle for us."

"Oh!" Serra smiled, and laughed lightly. "Well, it's inevitable that people will fall for me, but it's always nice to speak with another admirer. It's good to meet you!" She turned to the unfortunate mage, who was looking at the rest of them like he didn't believe a word they were saying. Mark mouthed 'latrine duty' at him, and Erk snorted, turning away. "Let's go, Serra," he said. "There will be soldiers coming when the switch is thrown."

As the two of them left, Matthew glanced at Mark admiringly. "Well played, sirrah, well played," he murmured. "I'll get to opening the doors then, shall I?"

"Let's go," Mark said, as Florina exited the house. "By the way, I'm Mark, tactician for this group. Here's to a profitable relationship."

As the three of them headed towards the closest door, Mark couldn't help thinking that the backdrop of the burning castle was somehow perfect for what he knew Lyn would meet with once she found the marquess.

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EDIT: 10/11/08


	10. Pillow

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

This prompt was fun to write, but I botched the ending. After looking it over for a while and not coming up with anything better, I decided to leave it be.

And thanks for the 700+ hits! Enjoy!

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#94 – Pillow

Mark smirked as he felt a hand ghost inside his cloak. "Why, Matthew, I'm flattered by the attention, but I'm afraid I cannot return your love, as my heart belongs to another."

"Ay me!" Matthew responded, playing along. "For my affections are doomed to remain unrequited, and I shall wither away and die without such nourishment as love!" He winked, and began to saunter off.

"By the way," Mark called, "The book you have isn't the one I was writing in." The thief froze and turned around after a moment. "How did you know?" he finally asked, flipping through the blank pages.

"Besides Wil and Florina's complaints that personal items have gone missing, you mean?" Mark smiled. "You did a remarkable job in disguising your interest in my journal. Everyone else I've met has looked on it with unabashed interest."

Matthew laughed. "Outdone by my own cleverness, then?" He tossed the book back. "I'm a thief," he said in explanation. "It's natural that I'm a bit of a kleptomaniac."

"And you're a spy, so it's natural that you want to find out my secrets, and from them, Lyn's, to send to your employer." Mark bit the inside of his cheek, as Matthew froze. Now was the moment of truth.

"You know, Lord Tactician," Matthew commented in a cheery voice, "it's a pity that you chose to sleep so far away from the others tonight. After all, if you hadn't, maybe that bandit that found his way past the guard on duty wouldn't have come after you in particular." Mark's sharp eyes noted that while Matthew's mouth was smiling, his eyes weren't, and his hand was slowly making its way towards his belt.

"And it's such a pity that I've slipped a note containing words to that effect to each member of our group, ones that they don't even know about," Mark said cheerily. "And so sad that instead of saying 'bandit', it says something more along the line of 'spy'. Perhaps you could get them all before the end of the night…perhaps not. After all, I might have made copies."

Matthew sighed. "Five years, and never caught once," he commented, taking a seat opposite of Mark's. "I must be getting sloppy in my old age."

"It was simply your bad luck that Serra was with our group," Mark commented. "A bit of flattery, a bit of asking about a sandy-haired man in a red cloak that she had met, and she told me all about the Ostian spy who was determined to hide his love for her." As Matthew grimaced, Mark shrugged. "Personally, I don't have a problem with you being here," he said.

Matthew looked up in shock. "What do you mean?" he demanded. "I can understand keeping a spy close by and feeding him bad information, but telling him you know about his activities and keeping him there anyways? Are you mad?"

Mark shrugged. "Probably," he said. "But, here's the thing. Sacae has no need of spies. Bern wouldn't bother to send one all this way for anything less than high nobility – something that Caelin is not." Mark was banking on the fact that those facts were correct – he had guessed it, but having no memory, he had no way to verify it. "That means that you're from Lycia. Anyone coming from Lundgren would be an assassin, not a spy, and would have taken the opportunity to stab me instead of finding my journal."

Mark took a breath. Matthew seemed to be listening so far, so it didn't seem as if there was as much danger of the man deciding to stab him all of a sudden. "Serra said you were an _Ostian_ spy, which would imply you were from Ostia. Since none of those places would have sent a spy, that would mean that you hadn't sold your services to someone else. As a spy, you're probably sending information back to Ostia about Lyn. Given that she is too honest to lie to anyone, even when she assumes command of Caelin, you're not telling anyone anything they won't find out sooner or later. In fact, your information is probably being used to keep foreign reinforcements from entering the fray." He smiled. "In short, all your actions are beneficial to Lady Lyn. Why would I want to stop that?"

_If you've figured all this out, why remain silent?_

_Because your actions were beneficial to Princess –. I determined that even if left to your own devices, you would not harm the princess._

"Clever," Matthew finally commented. He stood. "I think it's about time for me to retire, don't you?" he asked, once more resuming his cheery tone. "I'll see you in the morning, Mark!"

"Just keep your hands to yourself when it comes to me, and you'll be all right," Mark commented, lying back down.

"Oh, you'll be singing a different tune when I find out your secret," Matthew said, walking away slowly.

"Secret?" Mark asked, closing his eyes. "What secret is that?"

"Why, everyone has a secret or two he wants to bury somewhere deep. Even you…Mark." Mark froze at the words, sudden déjà-vu sweeping over him, included with a deep-seated sense of paranoia. Slowly, he turned to ensure Matthew had left. Once he had reassured himself, he pulled out the journal from the pillow in which it had been all along, and opened it.

_Important secret I do not want anyone to find out about…_ he began to write.


	11. Rejuvenate

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Decided to post this one early because I'm exhausted. I almost have the side story completely mapped out, so that's good. Oh, and if anyone wants to hear...watch..._read_ my explanation on anima magic, I posted that and the new review responses on my Livejournal/homepage. Enjoy!

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#103 – Rejuvenate

"This is Kathelet. If we head due south, we'll pass into Caelin. From here, I'd say we're about ten days' ride to Castle Caelin." Sain sighed. "Assuming we don't run into any delays, of course."

"And it would be too much to hope for that Lundgren had decided to play nice and stop sending soldiers to attack us, wouldn't it?" Mark asked wearily. At Sain's dejected nod, Mark patted him on the back. "Cheer up, Sain," he said. "We'll simply handle everything that comes our way."

Mark turned back to the front, and squinted. "Damn," he sighed. "Don't tell me that she's picked up _another_ stray?" He joined the rest of the group in crowding to the front while discreetly eavesdropping.

"Milady Lyndis," Kent said, "You cannot let your guard down. Not even for a child." Lyn threw a glare at him, clearly annoyed. "I _know_," she growled, and Mark grinned. _Not so reliant on him now that she knows he's besotted, now, is she?_ "Forgive me, but we're in a hurry," she said more gently to the cyan-haired boy. "Is there anyone else you can ask?"

"There's no time!" the boy protested. "Ninian's been…it's my sister! Some men have taken her away!"

"Your sister?" Mark hung his head as Sain rode forward, now clearly interested. _Fools in love, fools in lust, fools in general, I can't stand them!_ "Did you say your sister's been accosted?" Kent sighed, as well. "Sain…" he started warningly.

"That's right!" the boy exclaimed, relieved to have found someone willing to listen. "By some cruel, awful men. I don't know what I'll do without Ninian!" Sain puffed his chest out. "Milady Lyndis!" he begged. "We must help him!"

"Nonsense!" Kent snapped. "We haven't the time! If the marquess is as ill as we've heard, we must proceed!"

Mark bit the inside of his lip, studying the boy. _He looks strangely familiar…Nasir? Where did that come from?_ He pulled out the book and jotted the name down. Lost in thought, he didn't notice Lyn give the journal's presence a glance of interest.

"Kent, I…I want to help this child," she declared, just as the two knights were about to come to blows. Kent wheeled away from Sain. "Milady?" he asked, clearly shocked.

"I'm worried about my grandfather, of course," she hastened to reassure him. "But this! I cannot stand by and let a child be taken from her home!" Lyn bit her lip and bowed her head, the very picture of conflicted innocence. "I'm sorry, Kent."

"I'm your loyal retainer," Kent said hastily. "You owe me no apologies. You must do as your heart dictates, milady." He bowed in the saddle. "I will follow you, no matter where that may lead."

"Ah, ever the true knight, that one!" Sain murmured out of the side of his mouth. "You're in luck, laddie! Let's go get your sister!"

"Oh well," Mark sighed as the group began to follow the boy. "At least it's not bandits, or Lundgren's soldiers." He paused, looking the boy over once again. "I hope."

"C'mon, it's back to Nergal with you," Mark heard, and he sped up his pace. "Let Ninian go!" the boy protested. "And why do they always think that negotiations will lead anywhere?" Mark asked of the sky. "Honestly, one of these days they're going to go out and talk, and someone's going to stab one of them in the middle of the 'peace talk'."

"Stupid girl," the man Lyn was talking to snarled. "You'll regret those words. Take 'em down, boys!"

"Shamans," Erk hissed as Mark made his way over towards the mage. "I'm not sure how much help I'm going to be, Mark," he said. "It's too bad we don't have a practitioner of light magic – they're stronger against users of dark magic than anima users."

"If you want to sit this battle out, I don't have a problem," Mark told him. "Actually…here." He unhooked his satchel, and pulled out the contents, passing them to Erk. "Merchants have a more efficient way of doing this, or so I'm told," he said, "but if I give you my items, I won't have to worry about my bag overflowing." He looked around. "Actually, to accommodate everyone's extra items, we'd probably need two people sitting out of the battle."

"Argh!" Mark whirled around to see Lyn confronting Kent, a new man with long, blond hair standing next to her. "I am perfectly capable of judging people's characters on my own, Kent! I want you to sit this battle out and get your head screwed on straight!"

"And then there were two," Mark muttered as Kent rode over to him. "Did you put Lady Lyndis up to this?" the cavalier demanded.

"Me? Nah. She doesn't like people hovering, though." Mark threw a reproachful look at him. "You should know this by now."

"Who's the new woman?" Erk asked. Mark shoved him. "Idiot, that's a man," he said. Erk turned to stare at him incredulously. "Are you sure?" he demanded. "Look at those robes! And that hair's far too long to belong to a man."

Mark scowled. "So, because _I_ wear robes and have long hair means _I'm_ a woman?" he demanded. Erk gaped for a moment.

"I didn't know your hair was long, Lord Tactician," Kent commented with interest. He sighed. "What am I supposed to do outside of battle?"

Mark shrugged. "Go get everyone's spare items," he said. "You're going to be our merchant replacement." As Kent sputtered, Mark hurried over to Lyn. "So, who are the new arrivals?" he asked.

"This is Nils," she said, indicating the boy. "We're helping him –"

"– Find his sister, I heard your conversation," Mark cut her off. "You good with any weapons, kid?" he asked. Nils wrinkled his nose. "I don't use weapons," he said. "But I'm a bard!"

"A minstrel?" Lyn asked doubtfully. "This is no place for a ballad or a saltarello." Nils scowled. "C'mon, trust me!" he insisted. "I'm all yours…er…"

"Mark," the tactician supplied. He sighed. "I suppose we can give you a shot. Everyone talks about the healing power of music, so why _shouldn't_ it be applied to the battlefield?" He turned to the blond man. "And you?"

"Lucius," the man introduced himself, clasping Mark's hand. "I'm an Elimine monk. I saw the child's plight, and wanted to help the boy."

"Monk? As in, user of light magic?" At Lucius' nod, Mark sighed. "You're about to be invaluable against these shamans," he said with feeling.

"So, Mark, do you have a plan for me?" Lyn asked. Mark glanced about. "Florina!" he yelled out.

"I'm…I'm here," she responded, leading her Pegasus. "What did you need?" Mark smiled. "Tell me, can your Pegasus carry more than one rider?" he asked.

She nodded. "As long as the other rider isn't too heavy, Huey should be able to take two," she said. Mark frowned – that left out Dorcas, who he originally wanted. "Alright. I want you to take…Wil, and fly over those mountains to the south," he said, pointing out said mountains. "Once you get over, stick low to the ground, and we'll nail the kidnappers with a pincer attack." As Lyn nodded her approval, Florina ran to find the archer.

"Curses! Shaman approaching," Sain yelled out. Mark winced. "Lucius, could you…?"

"I understand," the monk said calmly. He pulled out a book, and began reading from it. Finally, he began to gesture, flinging his arm back wildly. "Strike with your holy Lightning!" he yelled.

A clear light shone, hitting the shaman. After a good ten seconds of him not getting up, Mark turned to Lyn. "It's clear that they're not going to wait for us," he said.

"Right," she responded. She glanced at the group worriedly. "I just wish we had met the boy at the beginning of the day, not after we'd been marching for a good portion of it…"

"I can help!" Nils pulled out a flute from somewhere and began playing. The music flowed gently through the air, and Mark blinked rapidly as it seemed that the weariness in his feet began to float away with the music.

"Well?" the boy demanded after he stopped playing. "What do you think?" Lyn blinked, throwing off her stupor. "That was lovely…" she murmured. "Invigorating, even!"

"My music can refresh you all!" the bard boasted. Looking back, Mark could see even the clearly upset Kent from ten minutes ago smiling broadly, as if all his cares were gone. The rest of the group began to move quickly, rejuvenated from the music.

Mark, however, took the time to pull out his journal. The music, it seemed, had not only refreshed his body, but also renewed his paranoia. _Is it a name, or a word? I'm not sure at all…this memory's so foggy…_Deciding to capitalize it, just in case, Mark wrote down 'Galdrar'.


	12. Fetch

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Little plot twist here that should give you more of an idea of how Mark got here. I love creating links. (grins madly)

Well, well. Only twenty-four hits away from 1000 hits! You guys make me feel like an amazing author, and I try not to disappoint.

Quick question - would you rather I put the interlude piece I promised _in_ 'To Lands Still Unknown' as an interlude, or as a separate story entirely? Please let me know. And, as always, enjoy!

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#45 – Fetch

"Lord Mark, I have a question." Mark blinked and turned to the blue-haired girl sitting next to him. "Why are you not in there with the rest of the troops? You didn't have to stay out here with me," Ninian said, looking down. "After all, you left two people to guard me already," she said, indicating Sain and Dorcas, who were busy watching the horizon.

Mark paused. "A question for a question, is that fair?" Ninian thought for a moment, then nodded hesitantly. "I've been with this group ever since Kent and Sain found Lyn on the outskirts of Bulgar," he started. "I've been with them through every battle, and although I can't take too much credit for their prowess, my tactics _have_ led them to victory every time. You heard Lyn say it herself – she's confident she can win with me by her side."

"But that makes no sense!" Ninian blurted out. "If she's so confident in your abilities, why are you leaving her without them?" Mark sighed. "I wasn't finished yet," he said. As Ninian blushed, hunching over, Mark continued. "The thing is, I'm worried that Lyn's beginning to think that _I'm_ the person who's causing her victories. I can give them a plan, but they're the ones who carry it out. I'm not going to be there forever, and Lyn needs to learn that even though someone can plan her battles for her, she's the one who wins them."

"I see," Ninian said, smiling hesitantly. Something about her demeanor caused Mark to smile back. "Now, I have a question," he said. "Can you tell me more about your dances and Nils' songs? Nils said your dance was sacred?"

"It is," Ninian agreed. "As you can probably tell…Nils and I are from far away. Our country is…very close to a sacred forest. In that forest, the…ah, the most beautiful birds reside. Their songs can refresh the most weary of travelers…but long ago, humans entered the forest and killed many of the birds, fearing them. Now, only a handful of them remain. Nils' song and my dance… they are meant to show both our sorrow at the fact that such a travesty occurred, and to attempt to emulate the actions of such beautiful creatures."

"I see." Mark had the sneaking suspicion that Ninian had not lied to him once, but had still held much of the truth back. "Would this ring Lyn is fetching have anything to do with your dance or Nils' song?"

Ninian opened her mouth to answer, but closed it suddenly. "A question for a question, Lord Mark," she murmured.

"Alright." Inwardly, Mark was cursing that he had allowed her to outsmart him. "Ask something else of me."

"Why do you not…look upon us with suspicion?" the girl demanded. "Even Lady Lyndis…she was startled at my appearance. Our countenances have been the cause of many arguments. But you…you haven't even stared once. You simply looked at us, and accepted us. Why is this?"

_I…I don't know._ "Your appearance is not all that strange," Mark said finally. "After all, you are still human, no matter what you look like." Ninian flinched. "Something is bothering you," he accused.

"There are others out there who would disagree with you," she said quietly. Mark frowned. "It is not so," he said. "You appear different from the people of Elibe, it is true. But you have feelings, and compassion. You worry about your brother. You are sorrowful that people have killed – even if it was only birds. You are more human than many of those walking out there." _I feel so strongly about this. Did someone once accuse me of not being human because of my looks?_

"Thank you, Lord Mark," Ninian said quietly. "To know that you believe that…it brings great joy to my heart." Mark sighed, and leaned against the wall. They sat in silence for several minutes, before Mark turned to Ninian. "I forgot," he admitted sheepishly. "_Does_ this ring Lyn is fetching have anything to do with your dance?"

Ninian bit the inside of her cheek. "Yes."

"Well?" he asked. Ninian fidgeted, and finally opened her mouth to answer, when the Lyn's voice came drifting down the hall. "I'm afraid we have to cut this short," Mark sighed. "Come on, let's retrieve your ring."

"I don't care who comes after you," Lyn was declaring, "I'll not let you be taken. Right, Mark?"

Mark inclined his head. _At least, not until you pay me that answer you owe me, Ninian,_ he told himself, insisting that it was merely that and nothing more that caused him to want to protect the children.


	13. Game

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Short and quick one. I forgot about the inn crossing (which is where they _should_ have been after they picked up Erk and Serra), so I decided to make the best of it. Apologies.

Thank you for the criticism, Admiral Obvious (and I really _do_ mean that). I wish you had an account, so I could message you and try and understand your opinions better, but as you don't, I must resort to posting my review responses, once again, on my LiveJournal. Enjoy!

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#54 – Game

"At last, glorious food that we didn't have to cook for ourselves," Sain said, leaning back in his chair at the inn. "Thank you, Mistress Anna. As usual, your talents exceed my every hope."

"Flirt," Kent muttered. Sain grinned, rubbing the back of his head. "Guilty as charged," he admitted.

"Mark!" Turning his head, the tactician took in Lyn beckoning him. "Yes, 'milady'?" he asked as he made his way over to her table.

Lyn smiled, unfazed by the moniker. _She must be getting resistant to the title._ "Serra was just telling me about this wonderful game she used to play!" the plainswoman chirped. "It has to do with associating words with other words, only this one associates words with people."

"Word association has long been a way of brainstorming ideas, yes," Mark agreed. "I hope you will have fun." He turned to leave.

"Come on," Lyn hissed. "If you just write down the first word you think, maybe you'll remember something!" Reluctantly, Mark seated himself, and an even more reluctant Erk passed him a sheet of parchment.

"Alright, we'll do this both ways, at Lyn's request," Serra said as Florina and Lucius took pieces of parchment. "First, I'm going to say a few words, and you write down the first person you can think of. Then, I'm going to say a few names, and you'll write down the first word you can think of." She beamed. "Ready?"

"Let's just get this over and done with," Erk muttered. Serra rolled her eyes, but pulled out a list that she had written beforehand. "Alright, first the words. Write down the people you think of first, no matter what, okay? Majestic. Kind. Beautiful. Brilliant. Strong. Admirable." She glanced around, as the group finished writing. "Ready for names? Alright, then. Sain. Kent. Wil. Ninian. And finally, Serra!" As they finished up, Serra glanced over at Erk's sheet. "Hey!" she complained. "You didn't put my name down once on the words part! And what's this…_annoying?!_"

"You _are_!" Erk protested. "You engineered this game just to make people praise you, didn't you?"

"How dare you accuse a lady of such behavior!" Serra fumed. As the two started to fight, Mark stood up, crumpling his parchment. "I have better things to do," he said. As he left, throwing the parchment towards the fire, Lyn noticed that his hands were slightly more pale than usual.

The girl took the opportunity to pull the paper out of the fire, stamping out the flames. She examined the paper, then shrugged. "I can hardly make out his writing, and with the fire damage…Eli? Ire? Petty?" Shrugging and not bothering to decipher the rest, she tossed the parchment back into the fire, not noticing the part that said 'dragon' burn away.


	14. Oracle

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Phew. It's harder than it ought to be, writing the side story. Of course, I'm trying to get something with more substance than just a prompt, and that might be it, as well. Oh, well.

During this prompt, I address something that's irked me - if Ninian and Nils can sense danger, why not put them to work doing so immediately? Thank you for your continuing support as I endeavor to write this, and please enjoy!

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#88 – Oracle

"The mountains look so far away now…" Lyn remarked wistfully. "We've come such a long way."

Mark glanced at her, mild disbelief showing on his face. But then again…the plainswoman had likely never been farther than Bulgar. "I suppose we have," he conceded.

"Milady Lyndis! We can't be too far from the castle now!" Sain called. "By Kent's reckoning, we can reach Caelin in two days, if we hurry." Lyn frowned. "Two more days… hold on, Grandfather, please," she whispered under her breath.

"Cheer up, Lyn," Florina said, moving forward to embrace the other girl. "If they see you looking sad, the entire company will lose heart." Mark sighed, and glanced backwards. Although the group had been refreshed by their stay at an inn instead of in their usual sleeping rolls from last week, after a week of moving as quickly as possible, nobody really looked like they had much heart to lose.

Of course, they had been extremely lucky. During that week, they hadn't been attacked by Lundgren's forces once. It was enough to set Mark's paranoia at a maximum. _Something is wrong. I could understand not attacking us if he was merely waiting until we got there, but he already has. We've been put on our guard. What is Lundgren thinking? _

He turned to the newest members of their group and frowned. "Ninian? Nils?" The two of them had blank looks in their faces, as if they were listening to something. "What's the problem?"

"Lyn…" Nils said quietly. Lyn turned to him, a questioning look on her face. "Danger approaches…"

"What did you say?" Mark demanded. Sain frowned. "I don't see anything," he added.

"I feel it, too," Ninian said, brows furrowed in confusion. "Ah!" she gasped, grabbing Lyn's arm. "Milady, don't move!"

Everyone stopped, looking around. Lyn frowned. "What is the matter, Ninian?" she said, turning to face the other girl. Suddenly, the sound of an arrow thudding into the ground made everyone spin. Lyn blanched. The arrow had landed exactly where she would have been standing had Ninian not pulled her back.

"Where did this bolt come from?" she demanded. Kent spun, looking off into the distance. "Not good," he said. "They have a ballista!"

Mark began looking around. "I don't see it anywhere…" he muttered. "It must be stationed behind those mountains."

"What is a ballista?" Lyn demanded. Mark sighed. "It's a type of siege engine," he explained. "Designed for long-distance attacks, it's been used to great effect in order to take out troops without them even realizing that they were under attack." He turned to Florina. "You're going to have to stay aground for this battle. No use in getting you skewered." Ashen-faced, she nodded.

"A good tactic for defending against a ballista is to send a unit with lots of armor out there, and let them waste their arrows on him," Kent offered. Mark nodded, but Lyn looked unsure.

"Wil, can you operate a ballista?" she finally asked. Wil bit his lip. "I've never tried," he offered, "but it's just a really big bow, right? I should be able to figure it out."

"We're doomed," Mark muttered. "Doomed." He sighed, and looked around. "Well," he said to no-one in particular, "if we're going to run out in front of the ballista like chickens in front of a fox, we might as well do it with as few casualties as possible."

"Wouldn't a straight-up charge work?" Kent wanted to know. Mark shook his head. "While I'd usually recommend it, I'd send a few people around the other side of the mountain, as well, to sneak up on the soldiers. It's not all _that_ big…and that village _does_ need to be warned." As Kent nodded and left to relay the plans to Lyn (and, presumably, to search for volunteers), Matthew took the opportunity to sidle up to Mark.

"Ah, Mark!" he exclaimed cheerfully. "I have some…minor… business to attend to, so I'll be unable to join you. If you need any of my possessions, please take them now." Mark fixed him with a flat look. "In other words," the tactician said, "you're going to report on Lyn to your employer, and you're bribing me with the items that _we_ gave you to keep silent."

"I'm so glad that we understand each other!" Matthew chirped. He pulled out a satchel and handed it to Mark. "Here you go," he said, before taking off. Lyn made her way over. "Where's he going?" she asked Mark as her eyes trailed the thief's dwindling form.

"No clue," Mark responded. "The last I heard, he was saying something about getting as far away from the ballista as quickly as possible." Although petty, Mark smirked at imagining Matthew try and talk his way out of _that_ one. His eyes, however, were not focused on Matthew, but instead the siblings. "Would you excuse me?" he asked Lyn, not waiting for an answer.

"Lord Mark!" Ninian said, as he approached. "Is anything the matter?"

"No," he responded. "I was just curious. That power you displayed back there…do you consciously control it, or is it just some sort of 'danger sense'? Because if it is, shouldn't you have noticed the ballista beforehand?" Ninian and Nils exchanged glances.

"It is…somewhat hard to explain," Nils volunteered. "We could sense the ballista, but…" As he trailed off, Mark picked up on his train of thought. "You didn't think it was dangerous," the tactician finished.

"Not quite," Ninian cut in. "Lord Mark…in our homeland, where we live in particular, there is very little violence of any sort. Our king forbids such. Once we arrived here, though…" She looked down. "This place is very violent," she finally said. "It was so different from home. Many of the things we sensed…"

"Mostly, we can sense what _could_ happen in the near future," Nils clarified. "And there are many people here...people who would normally never consider the things we sensed from them, but in certain situations, would be perfectly capable of them. Ninian and I went through a horrible time trying to process everything that could come our way, but didn't." He grimaced apologetically. "In the end, we learned to filter things out that weren't direct attempts on our lives, or on the lives of those around us."

"So, the ballista became a sort of 'background noise'?" Mark asked. At the affirmative nod, he sighed. "I don't suppose that you would be able to tell such things in the future?" he asked.

"Don't get me wrong!" Nils assured him. "Now that we know what to look for, Ninian and I can tell you of any more ballistae. But, when it comes to things that we haven't encountered…well, that's much more difficult. We have no training in processing the future, and so we only get a bit out of it."

Mark sighed. So much for his thoughts of a personal oracle. "You're still doing a good job," he finally said. "But, if you pick up anything that feels weird, or sense the impending death of someone else, please say something." At their nods, he left them to their own devices.


	15. Intact

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

After reading over the criticism and thinking about it for a while, I think that I definitely need to go back and make the little tweaks to fix up the first few chapters. Because of this, I think that once I finish Lyn's story, I'm going to take a week or two off to just fix up the old chapters.

Random point of interest: Today I put in Path of Radiance and turned on the Gamecube. It failed to load three times, even after I blew away any dust, until I went and cleaned the disk with dishwashing soap and a paper towel. I think it's a sign. Well, enjoy!

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#67 – Intact

"Lyn?" At Florina's question, Lyn froze, turning away from her. "Go away," she said.

"I can't do that," Florina said gently. She sat down next to her, and although she turned quickly, the Pegasus knight had seen the trail of wetness crying had made down her face. "This is about your great-uncle, isn't it?"

"It doesn't matter," came the muffled response. "Go away already."

Florina sighed, looking up at the sky. "It can't be easy, knowing that one of the only remaining members of your family wants to murder the rest," she said.

"Shut up!" Lyn lashed out, and it was only due to her hysteria that she didn't get hit. "What would you know about it?"

"I don't." Florina looked at the girl's eyes, turned red from weeping. "I have no idea how you feel right now, and even if I did, what you need isn't my pity. But as for what I have… I have an open ear, if you want to talk to me about it."

Lyn began sniffling again. "They're the last members of my family," she whispered. "Grandfather…when my parents died, I had nobody. None of the remaining members of the clan wanted anything to do with me. I could have even gotten used to being alone. But now, to find out that I have someone and he's being taken away from me, all at once…"

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and continued. "But Lundgren…he's even worse. I…I could understand if he didn't want me, if he hated me. After all, nobody in the whole of Lycia gives a damn about the Sacaen scum crowding their doorways, do they? They're all like Marquess Araphan…cruel, petty, ignorant, cruel…"

"I know, it's true. Most of Lycia's citizens do not feel for their Sacaen neighbors."

"_All_ of them!" Lyn insisted. "None of them care! All it matters is that we aren't Lycian, that we aren't the famed descendants of Roland, but of nomadic Hanon."

"Eliwood cares," Florina pointed out. "If he didn't, then you wouldn't be heading to Kathalet to find him, would you?"

"He doesn't count," Lyn muttered.

"And neither do Kent, or Sain, or Wil, or any of the rest of us?" Florina rebutted. "You're being foolish, Lyn."

"Well, it doesn't matter!" she yelled. "It doesn't matter if _they_ like me, it's Great-Uncle Lundgren who hates my blood."

"It can't just be your blood, Lyn." Florina looked up at the sky. "People always have hidden reasons for things. Your great-uncle may have hated you, no matter whose blood you had, simply because you were alive."

"No matter that he hates me," Lyn murmured, "I could have forgiven him. He is an old man, set in his ways, and I cannot fault him for that. But Grandfather!" She inhaled slowly, trying to gather some control to herself. "Grandfather was his _brother_. The two of them probably grew up together, as brothers. How could he be as desperate, as petty as to poison his own brother? How could he break his bonds with his family so easily?"

"I don't know," Florina whispered, thinking to her sisters. "I don't know what could cause one member of a family would leave the rest, or how a person could murder another just for money. I don't know how someone could be so greedy for a throne that they would do anything to get it. All I can do is hope that things will turn out for the better."

"It's not enough to hope," Lyn spat bitterly. "I'll never get to see him, will I? Great-Uncle will poison him, then he'll convince everyone that I'm a pretender and try and kill me, too." Florina leaned over and hugged the other girl.

"I don't know if it will be alright," she said, "But I'll do everything in my power to make it so. I promise you, Lyn." As the other girl began to weep again, Florina held her tighter. "You did everything to protect me when we were younger…but I'm strong now. This time, I'll be the one to protect you, and no matter what happens, we'll come through this intact."


	16. Evaluation

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Sigh. I just beat Hector's Story, only to find out that I missed one of the extra chapters somewhere and so missed the revelation of Nergal's backstory. Now I have to go back and beat it all over again. Phooey.

I like the idea of Erk and Lucius just randomly debating whatever comes to their mind. I think I'm going to use it in the future. Enjoy!

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#36 – Evaluation

"Fog…" Mark murmured. "We won't be able to see where we're going at all. Let's pray that it works to hamper our opponents as well as it does us."

"You…seem so convinced that we'll have opponents, Lord Tactician," Rath said. Mark looked at the man in surprise – usually the nomad kept to himself. "Is it not too much to hope that there will be nobody in our way?"

"I'm a realist," Mark told him. "While it would be nice if the estate to one of Caelin's generals was free from Lundgren's men, there's only a small chance of it being so." He glanced up at the nearby surroundings. "Forests that men could hide in…fortresses where reinforcements are stationed…the things hidden behind those hills that we know not…combined with a familiarity with the land, even in fog, it's the perfect time for an ambush."

"Do you see enemies everywhere you turn?" Rath wanted to know. "Do you never merely sit and appreciate the beauties of Mother Earth and Father Sky?"

"It's my job to see the enemies that you don't ," Mark said. "You were the captain of Araphan's guard – surely you were paranoid about safety, as well."

"I was his captain for…only a year," Rath said. "I have been a plainsman of Sacae for all of my life. But yes, I was concerned about safety matters." He, too, took the opportunity to survey the land. "I can see some of the potential dangers that you can, but you, Lord Tactician…" He trailed off, thinking his words over carefully. "To you, they…are not _potential_ dangers, but are threats that must be dealt with immediately."

"Is there anything _wrong_ with wanting to be cautious?" Mark asked, unsure if he was being complimented or insulted. Rath looked at him for a long minute.

"Lord Tactician," he finally said, "I fear for the day when our enemies are clever enough to create all the conditions you plan for – or worse yet, have you working for them. If I ever get on your bad side, please let me know." Mark stared after him as the nomad kicked his horse into a trot, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. _Just when you think you have everyone pegged, someone comes out of the blue and develops a sense of humor on you. I think._

His head turned sharply upon hearing Sain's cry. _What the…?!_ He ran towards the knight, swallowing as he saw the bald man in the grey-plated armor. _The General Eagler whose estate Kent said we were passing through? Whether it is or not, it doesn't bode well._

"If I don't like what I see, I will take her," the stranger said. Mark's breath caught. While he had no doubt that if it was a matter of the group ganging up on him they could take him out, the man looked strong enough to defeat them all individually, and surely a general would not be there without his troops. _Defeat them all easily…but magic users can penetrate his defenses…_ He spun again, searching out Erk and Lucius. To his dismay, they were near the back of the company, lost in a discussion. He glanced at the man again frantically. _If I call for them, I ruin the element of surprise…_

"Lyn!" The girl glanced his way, clearly intent on the conversation. "Distract him! I'll get Erk and Lucius!" She nodded, and strode to the front, the very picture of offended nobility. As Mark began to run, he could hear her exclaim "Enough! I'm right here!"

"Lucius! Erk!" The two of them broke off their discussion and looked at him questioningly. "There's an enemy general at the head of the group! I need your skills." They broke into a run, headed by the tactician. As they neared the general, he appeared to be evaluating Lyn. Mark stopped them. "Wait until he tries to grab her," he warned. "By that point, he's clearly demonstrated the intent to harm."

"Such beautiful eyes…" the knight pondered. As Lyn started, Erk sighed. "Looks more like he fell in love with her to me," the mage said, clearly losing his sense of urgency. "She seems to attract these flirts like bees to honey. First Sain, and now him…"

"Actually, it's bees to flowers," Lucius corrected. "Bees just make the honey. One of the men in House Cornw…one of the men in a place that I stayed was a beekeeper, and he taught me the difference."

"Bees to flowers, bees to honey, who cares? It was just a metaphor…"

"I've been a knight for thirty years," the man declared, ignoring the monk and mage now heavily locked in debate, "and there is one thing that I have learned. A person with eyes as bright and true as yours is no deceiver." He began to laugh, a loud guffaw from the stomach that startled birds out of a nearby tree. "Ah, yes, I like you, girl! Why, I believe I'll even join your little band of mercenaries!"

"I told you so about the flirts," Erk muttered. "And this one's far too old for her."

"Love knows no boundaries," Lucius admonished. "There are older men who dote upon younger women all the time, and the younger women happily return the favor."

"I don't really think that's about _love_, Lucius, but about –"

"Both of you, be quiet," Mark ordered, rubbing his head and listening to Kent declaim the wonders of this 'Lord Wallace'. _Not General Eagler after all…damn._

"Mark!" Matthew ran up. "Soldiers," he gasped out. "Posted all around General Eagler's estate. I was doing a bit of reconnaissance, and I saw them myself. Looks like they're here in case this guy failed to do his duty," he finished, gesturing at Wallace.

"And they know the lay of the land, putting them in a good situation." Mark was displeased. "If only we had torches of some sort, _anything _to see through this Ashera-cursed fog…"

"Mark, put me in the lead, please," Matthew begged. "Surely you know that we…'thieves' can see through fog."

"And you didn't warn us about Wallace," Mark deadpanned. Matthew grinned sheepishly, and Mark waved his hand. "I know. 'Reconnaissance'. Helpful set of skills for a 'thief'." He sighed. "Very well. Matthew, take point."

"Follow me, everyone!" Matthew called out. As the group began to move out, Mark threw a questioning glance at the siblings. "There was never any hostility coming from him," Nils explained. "No danger, just…" he exchanged glances with Ninian. "Curiosity?"

"Yes," she agreed. "He was merely curious about the group." As they continued moving, Mark resolved to consult with them before any potential conflict, if he could. _I wonder_, he mused, _if Lyn felt as awkward during Wallace's evaluation of her character as I did during Rath's of mine._


	17. Starflower

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Four prompts, including this, away from the end of Lyn's story! After that, it's a bit of explanation as to what happens during the year between, then Eliwood/Hector's story. Wow, time goes by quickly.

As always, let me know if there's anything you dislike, or like in particular, and please enjoy!

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#119 – Starflower

"Lord Wallace?" As the man turned, Mark gave his most disarming smile. "Sorry to bother you, sir," he said apologetically. "But I wanted to know more about the man who just joined us."

"Ah, you are Lady Lyndis' little tactician, are you not?" Wallace studied his figure as best he could by the moonlight. "I did not expect a child of your age to be commanding warriors."

_Ch…ch…__**child**__?! How dare he?!_ Despite his inner turmoil, Mark never dropped his smile. "I have always been advanced for my age, sir," he lied cheerfully.

"And wise enough not to shout at me, despite my words," Wallace agreed just as cheerfully. "Or perhaps just unobservant enough to not see that I insulted you. What can I do for you, boy?"

_He's…he's trying to make me lose it. He's being more frank about it than most, but he's trying to figure out what makes me tick._ Mark gave the man that the rest of the troop had dismissed as strong and loyal, but not nearly as intelligent as most, a hard look, as his rage cooled. _But is he trying to figure out my weaknesses for the Lady's gain, or for the gain of a different Lord…?_

"Why, merely hearing tales of your knightly prowess made me interested in you," Mark said. "Why, when I asked Sain about you, he was trembling from the magnificence of your training manual!" A half-truth, at best. Sain was indeed trembling – but it was probably not from the magnificence of the book. Mark, having borrowed it off of the knight, was frankly horrified at the amount of stamina the training demanded.

Wallace laughed. "It brings a tear to my eye to think that even after I left my active duties, that my legacy lives on!" A tear of joy to his eye…and one of pain to everyone else's, Mark was sure. He sat down on the log, removing his armor. "Enough with the pleasantries, boy. What do you really want?"

"Where do your loyalties lie?" Mark decided to ask. After all, if the man was being so blunt with his manipulation, then it behooved Mark to do the same.

Wallace did not disappoint. "My loyalties lie to Caelin, and what is best for it," he said. "Lundgren will not be good for the marquisate. I believe that fresh blood…Lyn's blood, will do wonders, for both the current marquess and the land."

"I see," Mark said. He rubbed his forehead. "I wish that I could take you at your word, but…"

"I understand," the knight told him. "And you, boy? Where do your loyalties lie?"

Mark thought for a moment. As friendly as Lyn was, as the heir to Caelin, she was not the person to whom he would pledge his loyalties. This, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt. But then, where _did_ his loyalties lie? To himself? To money? A flash of blue ran across his memories.

"To my true friends, as few and far between as they are," the tactician finally said. Wallace gave him a measuring look. "And is Lady Lyndis one of your true friends?" he asked.

"Perhaps." Mark did not need to tell the man that he did not know the answer himself. Wallace's stare remained, until he finally removed the last of his armor with a sigh.

"Ah, much better!" the knight exclaimed. He scooted off the log, and laid back. "This place…it brings back memories," he said wistfully.

"Memories?" Mark questioned. Wallace smiled, not the huge grins that Mark had seen on the general's face, but something older, something sadder. "I suppose that Lady Lyndis never knew that I knew her father," he said.

"No, she never mentioned the fact," Mark responded, concealing his surprise.

"Lord Hassar was a kind man," Wallace continued. "He shared Lady Lyndis' deep, honest eyes, as tight-lipped as the man could be."

"I thought her eyes were like her mother's," Mark interrupted.

"Yes," Wallace agreed. "The beautiful clarity of her eyes – it belonged to her mother. Amongst the people of the plains, for whom that honesty must have been natural, the traits she shared with her mother must have been much more obvious to them. But the Lady takes after her father greatly."

The big man sighed. "This spot…Lady Madelyn and Lord Hassar came to a place much like this while the Lord visited Caelin. I suppose they didn't see that I noticed…they were often too wrapped up in the other to notice anyone else. But one night, when I was searching for the Lady, I stumbled upon them. It was in a spot…a spot much like this place where I saw them embrace." He gestured towards a patch of flowers. "I remember it because of the starflowers. He picked one and threaded it through her hair, and told her that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever met."

The knight exhaled slowly. "He certainly knew how to pick the few words that he spoke," Wallace said, "for it was not a fortnight hence that I was summoned before Lord Hausen, to retrieve his daughter. It was in this very grove that I caught up with them."

He shook his head. "They each said to me, 'I am to blame. Do not harm the other.' I could have taken Lady Madelyn right there, brought her back to her father. She would have convinced Hassar to let her go if it meant that I wouldn't injure him. But…that starflower was in her hair…"

After a minute of silence stretched into two, Mark spoke. "You let them go," he said.

"I let them go," Wallace agreed. "I spent six months in the dungeon for it, but I let them go." He sighed. "And if I could relive the situation, I would let them go again," he said, mostly to himself. "It was the best decision I have ever made."

Mark stood there for a moment, as the knight lost himself in his musings. He leant down to the blue starflowers, picking one of them and studying it closely. "Such a small thing…" he murmured, trying to picture a noblewoman with a starflower through her hair. "So small and insignificant to some…but oh, so meaningful to the rest of us." After a moment, Mark finally put down the flower and walked back to the campfire, not looking back once.


	18. Downfall

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

I've finished Lyn's story by this point, but I'm being evil and posting the prompts at my usual rate to try and finish up the side story (I suck at endings) and get some more editing done on the earlier prompts so I don't have to worry about taking too long of a break.

Heh. I've been planning this one for a _long_ time. There are two meanings of downfall in this one, three different uses of said meanings (at my last count), and not one single use of the word. Enjoy!

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#26 – Downfall

"Accursed rain," Mark spat, doing his best to wring out his cloak – _again_. He turned to Dorcas. "Any more progress on that snag?"

Dorcas grunted. "Just a bit more, and we'll have our bridge," he said, before adjusting the grip on his axe and taking another swing at the dead tree.

"Shopping's done!" Serra chirped, sauntering out of the nearby armory. Erk trailed, staggering under the weight of the purchases. "Everything we need to defeat one evil usurper, right here!"

"It's too bad this rain doesn't impair visibility," Mark sighed. "As soon as the snag falls, those cavaliers on the other bank will be on us."

"I still say we should have swum the river," Matthew muttered. Like the rest of Lyndis' Legion, the thief had taken the time to equip himself with weapons useful against armor. "It's not like we'll get any wetter, anyways."

"Where's Florina?" Lyn asked, frowning. "She was only supposed to be gone for a brief diversion, but she hasn't come back yet."

"The rain's probably slowing her down," Kent assured the plainswoman. "Once it lets up, she'll be back as soon as she can."

"If it ever lets up," Mark growled. "This weather…rainy one moment, sunny the next, then rainy again…it's enough to drive anyone mad." He turned to Wil and Rath, who were waiting by the bank. "Any luck?"

Wil shook his head. "They wised up after the first few," he said. "Nobody's coming within range anymore."

"Mark, I cannot just leave my great-uncle be," Lyn decided to say. As he turned to her, she frowned. "I know, it makes sense to take out his soldiers before we advance on him…but every second he breathes is a second he does not deserve. I want to go after him once the snag falls." Kent and Sain, hearing the argument, rode up, flanking Lyn, as Wallace gripped his axe just a bit tighter.

_So that's how it's going to be…_ "All right, then," Mark conceded. "The rest of us will hold off the soldiers while you take on Lundgren." He glanced at the cavaliers and general, as if he had only just seen them. "I'll need the three of you to hold off the enemy until everyone's crossed the snag."

"Why?" Lyn asked. "Couldn't we just all charge as soon as possible? If we took out the cavaliers immediately, we wouldn't have to worry about wasting time holding the snag."

"I'd rather make sure that all of our people are safe, Lyn," Mark said. "If we just charge them, there's a chance, albeit small, that they might break through our lines and go after our weaker members." Lyn's face remained skeptical, but Mark pressed on. "We've come this far together," he said. "Do we really need casualties at this point?"

Whatever Lyn's reply might have been was interrupted by the sound of the dead tree, finally toppling as the rain slowed to a light drizzle. Immediately, the cavaliers on the other side of the bank began riding for the group. "Kent, Sain, Wallace, hold them off while we cross!" Lyn yelled. "We don't need them at our backs when we take down Lundgren once and for all!"

Immediately, the group began moving. As Lyn was about to run off, Mark stopped her. "Take this," he said, handing over the energy ring the old woman had given him. "And good luck."

She nodded her thanks and began to sprint towards the castle and Lundgren. A couple of cavaliers, seeing where she was going, broke off from the battle to chase her.

"Oh, no, you don't!" Wil let an arrow fly, crippling one cavalier's mount. As he cursed and tried to get out from beneath his horse, another arrow ended his life. "Take that!"

"Get the second cavalier!" Mark yelled, pointing at the mounted knight bearing down on Lyn. Suddenly, a flash of light illuminated the battlefield, and the second cavalier fell. He turned, seeing Lucius close his tome. "Good one."

Suddenly, a shriek tore across the grounds. Mark involuntarily glanced at Serra, but she was busy, healing a wound Wallace had taken. He scanned the battlefield, and then his heart dropped. Florina was flying as fast as she could back to them, but there was an arrow in her Pegasus' flank dripping blood, and an archer closely pursuing the Pegasus knight.

"Ashera take it! Serra! Hurry up with Wallace and get ready to heal Florina! Erk, take out that archer, _now_!" As Erk began casting and the fireball rose up, the archer noticed, sidestepping it neatly when it came to ground. He stopped, taking careful aim at the Pegasus.

Florina let out another wordless shriek, filled with pain and desperation. The archer grinned, but before he was able to let the arrow fly, Sain came bearing down on him, skewering him neatly on his lance.

"Thank goodness," Mark sighed, before the ramifications of what Sain had done occurred to him. _He broke the formation. Ashera, he _broke_ the _line…

"Mark!" Nils yelled, and the tactician turned, wondering desperately what was happening. Then, there was no more time to think as the enemy cavalier, who had taken full advantage of the distraction with Florina, came bearing down on him. Pale, Mark tried to dodge the lance, only for it to hit to the side of his chest, instead of directly at his heart. He fell.

"_Mark_!" The cavalier, the tactician noted faintly, was downed an instant later, falling to his side. Slowly, Mark turned his head, seeing the man's mouth open in a little 'oh' of surprise, blood dribbling out slowly. He was already dead.

_That doesn't look very pretty,_ part of his mind said. _Pretty? That's not a word I use often. I wonder why…_

_It was a critical hit, and blood loss is making me faint-headed, prone to uttering inanities,_ another part of his mind clinically observed. _With a wound this size, I need to find either a healer or a vulnerary within the next fifteen minutes, or I'll bleed out._

_Serra's there…but she should be busy with Florina, shouldn't she? It's not nice to interrupt people when they're in the middle of something…they take it out on me when I do…_

_Sit up and get a damned vulnerary already, or may Ashera help me, I'll kill me myself!_

Mark struggled to sit, but couldn't find the energy to prop himself up. "Vuln'ary," he croaked.

"Hold on," he heard. Slowly, he felt his robes being cut open, and the person inhaled sharply. "It looks like you've cracked a rib," came a voice which he identified as Matthew's. "Nothing short of a Mend staff will fix that, you know."

"It'll…heal 'n time," Mark said. "Heal th' wound…b'fore I lose 'ny more blood." _Or sense._

"All right. I have a vulnerary right here." Mark heard the bottle being uncapped, before Matthew began applying the medicine. _Never thought about it before,_ _but it feels really weird feeling liquid inside of me. For that matter, it feels weird to feel my skin knitting itself back together. I wonder if this is how everyone else feels when they get healed by a staff? But that's ridiculous, I didn't think about it when I was being healed by staves, and I'm being inane again, aren't I? _"Lyn?" he managed to ask.

Matthew looked up. "Lundgren's down," he reported. "She's taking the castle." As Mark struggled to see, a voice at the back of his mind said, _Your wound's been healed, and the castle was taken. Rest is probably best after that blood loss._

"Yeah, 's," he agreed. _And it's utterly ridiculous that I'm talking to myself, but it's what I deserve for being inattentive and getting speared. I haven't done that in ages…but when was ages ago?_

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Don't you dare die on me, you hear?" Idly, Mark noted that Matthew's voice had taken on a tone of panic. "Do you have any idea of what Lyn will do to me if you die on my watch? I'm no medic, but even I know that you're not supposed to go to sleep! Mark, you idiot! Open those eyes!"

Matthew's voice began to take on a fainter and fainter quality, as Mark's eyes drooped. _Funny,_ he thought, before he passed out. _It's raining again._


	19. Patient

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Not much to say. The side story will be posted as its own story tomorrow along with the last prompt in Lyn's story. Thanks for over two thousand hits, guys! Last check reads 2146 hits and 22 reviews.

As always, let me know what you think. Enjoy!

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#90 – Patient

_Ugh…my head…_ Mark shook his head groggily as he slowly came to. _This feels strangely familiar…_

"You're awake!" Lyn came into view. "You've been asleep since the battle."

"You know, we've got to stop meeting up like this," the tactician remarked, finally placing the source of his déjà vu. "What day is it?"

"The same day, only later. You've been asleep for five hours, but the physician tells me that it's all right."

"That's good." He began to take in his surroundings. "I take it that this is Castle Caelin? Did you find…" He trailed off, not sure if he should be stepping delicately around Lyn.

Lyn's face broke into a smile. "He still lives," she told Mark. "The physician said that he made a marvelous recovery, and it's impossible to tell that he was ever ill."

"Ah. Congratulations on his recovery." Mark sat up, then paused. "My ribs don't feel cracked."

"One of the Caelin soldiers found a Mend staff in the armory," Lyn explained. "Serra mended the rib shortly after we brought you inside."

"I see." The two of them sat in an awkward silence for a moment, before Mark spoke up again. "You'll be staying with your grandfather."

"Yes." Lyn leaned back in her seat. "Grandfather and I have much to catch up on, now that he's well." They lapsed into silence again, and Lyn began to fidget. "You missed dinner," she finally blurted out. "They threw this ridiculous celebratory party, and Rath must have slipped out in the middle of it, because nobody can find him anywhere."

"Perhaps that's for the best," Mark said cautiously, watching Lyn's face closely. Lyn nodded, no trace of the expected sorrow on her face. "He was a good friend," she said, "and I would have liked to be able to thank him for all he's done. But if he's not comfortable…I wouldn't dream of making him stay." She stood. "Anyways, I should get you something to eat."

"I'll come with," Mark said, swinging his feet over the side of the bed. "I dislike the feeling of being bedridden." He slipped on his boots, then looked around for his cloak. "Lyn?" he asked, frowning. "What happened to the green cloak I was wearing?"

"It's being mended," she told him. "I don't know if you noticed, but having a lance put through a garment of clothing does tend to destroy it. It should be fixed by tomorrow."

"It's just awkward," Mark said as they left the room. "I've been wearing that cloak since we left your house a month and a half ago. Without it, I feel…naked. Oh, stop that," he added irritably, as Lyn snorted.

"How dare you be so impertinent to a lady?" Lyn mock-demanded, sticking her nose up in the air. "I shall have to have you punished."

"Oh, no, Lady Lyndis, anything but that," Mark cried in fake horror as they went down a set of stairs. "I promise I shant do it again."

"Yeah, right," Lyn said, biting back a grin. "I've decided. Your punishment is to not have any say in what you get to eat." Mark blinked, before realizing that they had reached the kitchens. "You stay out here, and I'll get something befitting an invalid of your stature."

"Invalid refers to a long-term disease, not a cracked rib," Mark called after Lyn as the door to the kitchen swung shut. He put his hand to his head as a feeling of dizziness swept him. _Guess I'm not as healed as I thought I was. Oh, well._ He found a chair and sat, hanging his head.

"…can't find him anywhere…" Mark glanced up, recognizing the voice as Kent's. "He may have been a thief, but he knows that he would have been richly rewarded for assisting Lady Lyndis. And if anything, he should not have passed up the chance to steal from the castle."

"Was his avarice truly that great?" Mark frowned, unable to identify the voice.

"No, Lord Hausen," Kent admitted. "But it does not add up. He has been missing since the final battle, and nobody saw him enter. In addition, when Reissman checked the treasury and armory, to find that Mend staff, he reported nothing missing. What kind of thief passes up the chance to enter a castle full of treasures unmolested?"

_Matthew is missing? But…he took the time to heal my wound. Why would he have done that if he just wanted to run? In fact, it would have made more sense to let me die. After all, I'm the only one in the group who knows his secret._

"What do you suspect, then, Kent?" the man identified as Lord Hausen asked. Mark hung his head again quickly as the pair, followed by Sain, entered the end of the hallway. They were walking extremely slowly, and Mark gritted his teeth. _I can't speak up now, because they'll think I was eavesdropping – and I was. But if they catch me…_

"I don't know what I suspect, milord," Kent said. "But whatever he was planning, I think it involves Mark." The aforementioned man froze.

"The tactician?" Lord Hausen asked, frowning. "Lyn spoke highly of him. From her tales, I regret that I was unable to meet him."

"Said tactician is not nearly as noble as your granddaughter makes him out to be, milord," Sain spoke up, and Mark felt a short stab of anger and disbelief flood through him. Kent, he could have understood, but Sain? "He has been observing us the entire journey, and has picked his words carefully to turn Lady Lyndis against us. In addition to that, he was the only person who Matthew spoke to on a regular basis, and he somehow convinced Matthew to join our group free of charge."

"He actively encouraged Lady Lyndis to action without thoughts of the consequences," Kent added. "He also delighted in meddling with the dynamics of the group. I believe he encouraged Lady Lyndis in her infatuation with Rath, the nomad. He also convinced her, somehow, that I was untrustworthy, and should not be listened to."

Lord Hausen sighed. "Is there no possible way that you could be wrong? Lyndis did have so much good to say of him…"

Kent and Sain exchanged a brief glance. "It's possible, Lord Hausen," Kent reluctantly said. "It's just not very likely. I think that he's here either to spy on us, or to carry out a heist."

"Very well." Lord Hausen's voice, previously inquisitive and concerned, turned steely. "If he continues this behavior you have outlined, have him questioned – extensively. I will not permit another threat to my granddaughter."

"Milord!" The cavaliers saluted, and Mark's stomach dropped. The marquess had just given both the cavalier he _knew_ hated his guts and his partner leave to torture the tactician if he stepped a toe out of line.

"Ah." Three pairs of boots stopped in front of Mark. "Someone celebrated a little too much, eh?" Not trusting his voice, Mark dipped his head slowly. "It's good to know that the servants are so happy to have Lyndis back, safe at home. But don't think that this will get you out of your duties tomorrow, young lady!" The men passed Mark.

_Young lady? I…I don't have _that_ much of a feminine build, do I? _Mark was mortified. _At least they didn't recognize me as their contrary tactician. Thank Ashera that my cloak was being mended._

He turned his head to watch them leave, and froze again. Kent was looking back at him suspiciously, and Mark remembered his unfortunate comment from two weeks ago. _'So, because _I_ wear robes and have long hair means _I'm_ a woman?'_

"Yune take it," he muttered under his breath, as Kent finally turned and left. "I can't stay here at all, can I? It's too bad…I wouldn't have minded a few days to recuperate…"

He sat for a few minutes, until Lyn exited the kitchens, a bowl of soup and a spoon in her hands. "The cooks say that recent patients should have soup, so they warmed some up for you," she told him.

"Thank you, Lyn," Mark said slowly, taking the bowl and spoon. He began to eat mechanically. _I have to leave. I have to leave tomorrow. I have to get out of here before Kent puts two and two together and has me locked up for eavesdropping, or influencing Lyn, or whatever his mind comes up with. Bastard. I'll remember this._

"Lyn…" Mark began. "As eager as I am to be a good patient and stay put like the healer ordered, I really can't impose on your hospitality any longer…"


	20. Hollow

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Time goes by quickly, doesn't it? I started writing this a month ago, started posting it nineteen days ago, and now I'm ending Lyn's story. I've received a ton of hits, more reviews than I've ever gotten on any of my fics before, and a bunch of good advice. I guess what I'm saying is, thanks, everyone. Your advice and encouragement made putting this up really fun, and I look forward to hearing from you all again when I start posting the prompts that go in between Lyn and Eliwood/Hector's stories in a week.

Check out the side-story, 'Passports, Please?', and let me know what you think! Actually, let me know what you think of _this_ one first, and _then_ let me know what you think of the side-story. Or the other way around. I'm not picky.

Enjoy!

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#61 – Hollow

Florina smiled as she and Wil continued their patrol through the castle town of Caelin. It had been two weeks since the battle with Lundgren, and the townspeople had not yet lost their euphoria over their proper lord recovering his health.

To think that when she started this journey, all she had wanted to do was find Lyn and spend more time on the plains of Sacae! She would never have imagined being pulled into a journey to reclaim Lyn's heritage, or learning to open up while in the presence of men. Even though the bow slung across Wil's back gave her pause, she was able to work through it and to be able to focus on her job. And it was all thanks to their mysterious, amnesiac tactician.

It was too bad that Mark had just disappeared, however. She had wanted to tell him about her and Wil's acceptance into service of Caelin, but the strategist had left the day after the celebration. Last anyone had heard, he was planning on travelling Lycia. Florina was a bit worried – he wasn't very strong, especially after taking that injury, and probably should have been travelling with someone who could protect him – but she figured that Mark could take care of himself.

"Hey, Florina," Wil spoke to her. It took a moment for her to realize he was calling her – after all, a moment ago he had just been complaining extensively about training via the 'Manual of Knightly Prowess', or 'The Book of Evil', as he had taken to calling it. "That guy there, in the dark cloak. He doesn't look very familiar, does he?"

Florina followed his finger, and her eyes came to rest on a blue-haired man talking to Amelia, the woman who worked at the vendor's shop. "No…not at all," she agreed.

"Excuse me! Sir?" The man turned to face them at Wil's call, and Florina was faced with a pair of blue eyes, scrutinizing their weapons.

"What is it?" he demanded.

Undaunted, Wil pressed on. "Are you new in town? I haven't seen you around before." Slowly, the man nodded.

"I'm looking for a man," he said. "Long, black hair, red eyes, slight build, and a marking on his forehead. Have either of you seen him?"

Florina's mind flashed back to a night spent in a ruined fortress after rescuing Dorcas' wife, and a hood pulled back to show a slap mark. "Wh…what do you want with him?" she asked hesitantly. There was something about this man which was setting off all of her 'danger' senses.

The man frowned, as if not sure himself. "He's important," he finally said. "I need to find him."

Wil shrugged. "Can't help you, pal. I've never seen anyone like that in my life."

"Then I must continue searching for him." The man looked straight at Florina, and she shivered. "Forever, if need be."

"He's not here," Florina finally blurted out. She begged forgiveness from Mark in her head, but there was something about the man that she _didn't_ want in Caelin any longer than it had to be. "The man you're talking about…he left Caelin two weeks ago. He said he was going to tour Lycia."

The man frowned. "So I see. Thank you for your help, sir, miss." He walked briskly towards the town gates.

"You weren't talking about Mark, were you?" Wil asked. "Is that what he looks like?"

As Florina began to explain, the man left the town and sat by a nearby tree. "Not here, either…curses," he mumbled.

"Oi." The man looked up to see a woman standing over him. "What are you doing here?"

"I dreamt that he needed me," the man said slowly. "That man…from my memories…" He shivered. "But I couldn't find him." He sighed. "I feel hollow."

"You _are_ hollow," the woman snapped. "Your only purpose is to serve well. And whoever he is, he's obviously not going to let you find him. Or did you forget that you were the one who drove him away?" The man looked down, and the woman pressed on. "Now, you need to go back to base. The master would _kill_ me if I let his valued tool escape on a quest to find his missing memories."

The first man stood up slowly, stretching out. "Very well…Sonia."


	21. Third

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Well! That last week was...cathartic. I got the revision I wanted done, and after a bunch of thought I've even been able to plug up some future plot holes. I have a lot planned for you, and I'm ready to start posting again!

From some of the reviews, I've been alerted to something that I think I should address here. This story will contain full spoilers for Fire Emblem 7 and partial spoilers for Fire Emblem 9/10. I plan on updating the first chapter to relate this fact, as well. Although knowledge of any of the series isn't _required _to enjoy the story, some of the stuff you'll only catch if you know all three games. I apologize to anyone to whom I've done a disservice by not stating this before.

That aside, I hope you enjoy the year in-between stories as much as I enjoy writing it!

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#127 – Third

"Let's try this again, shall we?" Mark asked, trying to keep the smile on his face from slipping. "You've searched my bags thoroughly, and so you should know that I have no possessions on me besides my journal and my clothing. I have no supplies, having eaten my last just last night, and I have no weapons for you to sell. Lastly, I have no money for you to take from me, having been robbed by another group of bandits just three hours ago. In short, there is no reason for you to hold me up any longer, and it would be in your interests to let someone with no value like me go."

The bandit leader rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "It's true, you ain't got anything worth stealing," he said. "And no matter how nice that cloak looks, I'm not going to leave a man without his clothing. That'd be right indecent of me."

"Yes. Yes, it would," Mark said, relieved that the group surrounding him was _finally_ seeing things his way.

"And you've been right polite about the whole thing, too," the bandit added. "Most folks decide to scream and run, and we just have to cut them down, you see? Fer the sake of our reputations."

"I understand completely," Mark agreed, unable to keep his eyes from flickering to the brute to his right, who was adjusting the grip on his axe and grinning in a most unpleasant way. "What kind of bandits would you be if you just let someone outrun you? Makes perfect sense."

"So, you see why we can't just let you go," the leader said regretfully. "Folks 'round here would think we've gone soft, and then we wouldn't get any respect, you see?"

_Not at all._ Mark gritted his teeth. "But I don't have anything for you to take! And," he added, in a moment of goddess-inspired creativity, "if you just killed me when I've complied with your wishes, people would think you've gone brutish and start hiring mercenaries to take you out. Bandits such as yourselves have to be careful, no?"

"That's true," scowled the leader. "Gotta be careful not to attract the attention of that castle guard. But what are we supposed to do, if we're not gonna rob you or kill you?"

"Obviously," Mark said, grasping at straws, "Intelligent bandits such as yourselves would never make the mistake of stopping someone who had nothing on him to take." As he saw heads begin to nod, pleased by the flattery, Mark pressed on. "Therefore, you clearly only stopped me for the purposes of pointing me towards the nearest town and the nearest money-making job I could find, so that you could rob me when I left."

"Yeah, that's right," the bandit said, clearly warming to the idea. "Make a lot of sense, that do. Smart thinking there!"

"I know," Mark muttered.

"Now see here, the nearest town hereabouts is the castle town of Laus," the bandit said, gesturing somewhere to the west. "Take you another hour's walk, and you'll be able to find something there, eh? Lord Darin's always looking for new servants and such, you might even be able to find a post there. You can get a lot of money from those posts. And if you've got any skill with a blade, Eubans' mercenaries is hiring."

"Not with _that_ lot on," another bandit commented. "Just look at 'im! Might be a nice cloak, but all covered with mud and stuff like that? He'll be lucky if they let him into the castle at all, let alone give 'im a job!"

"He'll just have to make do," the leader said. He scowled. "Guess this means we can't even be givin' you a beating. Don't want to be thrown out because you look like a brawler!"

"Thank you," Mark said, a look of appropriate awe crossing his face. "You're much more polite than the last group I ran into. I'll make sure to come this way the next time I leave, then."

"Aw, don't worry about it," the bandit grinned. "We'll find you 'fore you find us!" Laughing and joking, the bandits made their way back into the woods and to, presumably, their hideout. Once he was sure they were gone, Mark let out a sigh. _Nothing new, but this is the first time I've heard about mercenaries…I wonder if they have a spot for a talented tactician?_

"Stupid bandits," he smirked, pulling the small bag of gold coins Lyn had given him before he left from a concealed inner pocket in his robes and tossing it in the air a few times. He smiled as the bag, stuffed with both gold and scraps of cloth, made no noise whatsoever as it landed in the palm of his hand. "That's the third group that's fallen for it today."


	22. Elegance

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Not much to say, I'm afraid. As always, enjoy!

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#33 – Elegance

"The other fork, milady." Lyn frowned and picked up the outside fork, holding it between her thumb and forefinger distastefully. "Reissman," she complained, "do I really need all this silverware for dining? I've heard plenty of stories where nobles tear into their food with their fingers just as their servants."

The steward frowned. "While some nobles do so, Lady Lyndis, they are the…_rejects_ of the nobility. The last time I have had the misfortune to see a duke or a count do so, I was in Bern."

"There's nothing wrong with Bern," Lyn muttered. She sighed. "But even if I have to use this, why would I need _all_ of these?" she asked, gesturing to the several types of silverware spread across the table by her place setting. "Mother only instructed me on the use of a normal fork, spoon, and knife when I was young. I mean, what's that one used for?"

Reissman glanced at the fork she was pointing to. "That is for prawns, milady."

"Prawns?" Lyn asked, surprised.

"They're a type of seafood," he explained. "I'm not surprised that you haven't heard of them – they're considered a Lycian delicacy, made only for the nobles."

"But," Lyn said, wrinkling her brow, "the sea's a week's journey from here. Why would we need a fork for something someone has to travel two weeks to get for us?"

"It's a _delicacy_, Lady Lyndis," the steward said, stressing the word as if it would change her perceptions somehow. "The point of it is to demonstrate to one's neighbors that we have the resources available to regularly get something from two weeks away."

"But we _don't_!" Lyn protested. "After we won back the castle, we barely have enough men to patrol the borders and fight off bandits, let alone go on some hare-brained scheme to get seafood from Badon!"

"Yes, but we don't want our neighbors to know that, do we?" Reissman asked. "You must realize, Lady Lyndis, that even bound by the rules and constraints of the Lycian League, any sign of weakness will be ruthlessly exploited, causing us to lose our standing and our exports. Once that happens –"

"–and the rest of the League has no more use of us, they'll invade and divide Caelin into pieces for its neighbors, I know," Lyn sighed. "You've drilled me on this at least a thousand times."

"Repetition doesn't hurt, milady," the steward said reproachfully. "You must be well-educated, elegant, and demure – in short, the perfect heir to demonstrate to the world that despite Lord Hausen's illness, we are not weakened in any way."

"I think I'm going to die of this elegance," Lyn sighed. "I mean, _look_ at it, Reissman. Look at it from a position that hasn't been tied up in etiquette for ages. We have a _fork_ for a dish that we can't afford to get, let alone serve – and worse yet, we have to know _exactly_ how to use it."

"It's necessary, milady," Reissman said, although the twitches of his mustache betrayed his amusement. "In return for their greater privileges, the nobles have to bear a greater burden."

"Which is this?" Lyn asked suspiciously. "The privilege, or the burden?"

"Both, I'm afraid," Reissman admitted. "Now, once more – the next spoon is for stirring tea…"


	23. Fermata

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

I'm not sure at this point, but I think that, including this one, there will be somewhere around eight more prompts in the 'in-between' arc. These ones are fun to write, because there's no description whatsoever of what goes on during that one year, so I can decide on whatever I want, as long as Lyn stays in Caelin and Mark ends up in Pherae. I haven't actually seen many stories that discuss what the tactician _does_ during that year, so I hope that mine is realistic.

I'm going somewhere in particular with this comparison. First person to guess both sides of it gets to propose the next side-story. As always, enjoy!

* * *

#44 – Fermata

"…and you should have seen Master Liam in action when that man leapt at him after they had finished! He didn't even have to turn to dodge the strike, and his counter! The way the man's carrying on, Master Liam might as well have been using a real sword instead of a practice one!" Mark glanced briefly at the men exchanging tales, considering if talking with them would yield any results.

"Is Eubans available?" he finally asked, gesturing at the closed door. The men broke off talking and stared at him. "What do the likes of you want with the boss?" one of them demanded.

"Well, I'd like to speak with him, for starters," Mark drawled. "Is he available?"

"He's in a meeting right now. It'll be over in a few minutes," another man said. He looked Mark over. "Look, pal, just 'cause that weird Master Ephidel wears cloaks like that doesn't mean that dressing like him'll get you a job."

"What?" Mark asked, confused. He was about to demand what they meant, when the door opened.

"…glad that you agree, Captain," a voice came from inside the room. Mark blinked as a figure in a cloak almost identical to his own, except for its purple color, pulled the hood over its face and exited. "Lord Darin appreciates your cooperation and discretion in this matter."

"My loyalties will always lie with Laus, Master Ephidel," a grey-bearded man said stiffly, following the other man out of the door. "You didn't even have to ask."

"I know, but it was only polite," 'Master Ephidel' said. He started to leave, then paused and glanced at Mark. "Do I know you?" he asked, and Mark suppressed a shiver at the sight of golden eyes staring out from under the cloak at him.

"I doubt it," Mark responded. He turned to the grey-bearded man, who he guessed was the commander. "I would have words with you, Master Eubans."

"If you've got something to discuss, we'll go to my office," the man said. He gave a pointed look to Ephidel, who took the hint and left. "After you," he said to Mark, who nodded. They entered the room, and he closed the door behind them.

"I must insist that you remove your hood for the purposes of this meeting," Eubans said. "I don't speak to anyone I can't see face to face, not even Master Ephidel."

"Very well," Mark said, pulling back the hood. "My name is Mark, and I was given to understand that you were hiring for – is there something on my face?" Eubans was staring unabashedly at Mark.

"Are you sure you've never met Ephidel before?" he demanded. "Because the two of you look damn similar."

"I assure you, if I have met Ephidel before, I don't remember it," Mark said in perfect honesty.

"But, the long, black hair…the pale skin…the similar speech – never mind," the man cut himself off, as if finally realizing how out-of-bounds he had stepped. "You say you were interested in a position? You don't look very strong. Are you a mage of some sort?"

"I'm a tactician," Mark told him, ignoring the slight to his supposed ability.

"A tactician, eh?" Eubans frowned. "We don't see many of your kind outside the noble houses. I wasn't even aware that they let you lot go without being sworn to a house."

"I'm…an apprentice," Mark lied, deciding that nobody needed to know about his amnesia. "I'm travelling the world before I decide on a house to serve."

"An apprentice – now, that's different," Eubans said. He looked downright unfriendly by this point. "Look, lad, we don't tolerate wet-behind-the-ears brats who think they're Saint Elimine's gift to us lowly mercenaries. If you had something worthwhile to offer, that'd be different, but until you have more experience…" He moved to stand.

"Lady Lyndis was perfectly satisfied with my level of experience," Mark rebutted. Eubans sat down again slowly. "Lady Lyndis?" he asked. "As in, the Lady Lyndis who recently took back Caelin?"

"I know of none other," Mark replied. "I journeyed with her from Sacae all the way to Caelin, and provided her with advice during her battles."

"I heard that Lundgren threw every man he could at her and she still broke through," the commander mused. He smiled slowly. "Would you be able to back up your claim?"

"If you send word to her, she'll be happy to provide you with a description of my appearance and abilities," Mark said coolly. Even though he understood the man's need for good men, his two-faced nature – and in front of him, no less! – irked the strategist. _Even that other mercenary group I studied with near the beginning of my career wasn't so rude and dismissive – and who were they? Damn, but I wish I could take out the journal and write this down…guess I'll have to wait until we're finished here._

"You are so certain of this?" the man pressed. "What will you do if Lady Lyndis sends back word that she's never met anyone of your description?"

"She won't," Mark responded. "L…the lady would not lie, and especially not about this."

The man studied him for a few minutes longer. "All right," he finally said. "Our mercenary group is mostly stationed in Laus, but we're going recruiting in a few more of the Lycian territories. You can prove your worth in one of those units. Sealen's group is moving out in a week – and mark my words, if Lady Lyndis _does_ send back word that she's never seen your like before, I'll have you flayed alive."

"As I said before, she won't," Mark said, standing as the other man did. Eubans threw the door open, startling the men sitting there. "Heath," he barked, as Mark pulled up his hood, belatedly remembering that Ephidel had done the exact same thing. "Show this man to Sealen's unit. He's going to be the new tactician."

"What, so soon after Perry left them?" the man named 'Heath' demanded. "You can't mean –"

"I _do_, Heath," Eubans cut him off. "Those other men who failed out of the school can move aside for one who did _not_." Turning to Mark, he added, "I expect good work out of you."

"Yes, sir," Mark agreed, before turning and following Heath. _Don't blow up at your new employer,_ he told himself. _This is only a brief fermata in the piece you call your life. You just need to get your memories back, and it will quickly be forgotten by the finale._


	24. Harlequin

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Nobody's guessed yet. Of course, that might be because nobody's even tried to guess yet. Quick recap - I'm going somewhere in particular with the comparison between Mark and Ephidel. First person to guess both sides of it gets to propose the idea for the next side-story. Of course, you can always just suggest ideas and I'll probably take them, but I think this way is more fun. Newest hint: memories.

Unfortunately, I can't seem to flesh out Lyn's vignettes as much as I can Mark's. That's too bad, because I actually know what I want to do with Lyn more than I know what I want to do with Mark. As always, enjoy!

* * *

#57 – Harlequin

"This is ridiculous," Lyn muttered as a maid laced up her corset. "Don't tell me that noble women actually _wear_ these monstrosities!"

"I think…you look very nice in it, Lady Lyndis," Florina said, trying to stifle a giggle. "And I'm sure that nobles wear them."

"But I can't fight in this," Lyn pointed out. "Add the…_dress_, and I'll never be able to run anywhere, let alone protect myself if need be!" She glared at the blue mass of frills hanging in the corner.

"They're to improve your figure and posture, milady," the maid said, doing up the final knots. "And you'll look so pretty in the dress! Not," she hastily amended, "that you didn't look pretty anyways, but…"

"Right." Lyn sighed. "The corset's part of that class of elegance I have to learn." The maid brought over the dress, and Lyn raised her arms obligingly.

"Milady?" Lyn looked over the changing screen as another maid entered, bearing a silver platter. "This came for you."

"Another letter asking Marquess Caelin's granddaughter to pay a visit to the poor, besotted suitor when it's convenient?" Florina asked. "You do seem to get a lot of those."

"Perhaps," Lyn said, threading her arms through the sleeves and taking the envelope. "It's from Laus, but it doesn't look like Marquess Laus' seal…" She broke the wax with her thumb, and pulled out the letter inside. "It's from a mercenary company."

"I thought you weren't serious when you said you'd run away and become a mercenary if they didn't stop trying to make you into someone you weren't!" Florina gasped. "Lyn, please tell me you aren't going to go? We would all be so upset."

"It was just said out of exasperation, Florina," Lyn assured her. "No…" she murmured as she scanned the letter. "They want a reference."

"What for?" Florina asked, trading Lyn the long gloves in matching blue by her side for the letter. "A man who claims to have assisted you in your reclamation of the throne of Caelin? Black hair, red eyes…Mark?"

"I'm glad he found employment," Lyn said, pulling on the gloves and sitting on the bed next to Florina. "I wish that he could have stayed here with us, but he insisted that he couldn't depend on Caelin's generosity. I'll have to write a letter assuring them of his ability immediately."

"Hold still, milady," the maid ordered as she approached Lyn with mascara in hand. "We have to apply your makeup."

"What?!" Lyn demanded. "First these ridiculous clothes, and now makeup? All we need is a jester's hat to complete the ensemble! I look like a clown!"

"Every noblewoman wears makeup, milady," the maid said reproachfully. "It's merely one of the things you'll have to get used to."

"Not _this_ noblewoman," Lyn growled. "Perhaps other noblewomen can bear it due to their upbringing, but I refuse to put on something that will merely run in my eyes and become ruined when I begin to perspire!" She stood and buckled on the Mani Katti, then exited. The maid followed her, makeup in hand and begging the lady not to ruin the delicate fabric of the dress with the weight of the sword, and couldn't she get her something more lady-like if she _must_ carry a weapon? No longer able to conceal her amusement, Florina followed them, pocketing the letter as they left.


	25. Practice

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Nobody's guessed it yet, but **A somebody** is the closest so far, although Ephidel hasn't been changed at all - he's always had pale skin, long black (although curly) hair, and a manipulative personality. Next hint: It's not quite about _them_, but their future interactions with certain people.

This chapter features my attempt to figure out _why_ the weapon triangle works. Anyone who _knows_ if and why my explanation is very, very wrong, please tell me! And please, keep on guessing where I'm going with this comparison. Remember, first to guess gets to propose the next side-story. As always, enjoy!

* * *

#96 – Practice

"But you can't hire _all_ of them," Mark mused, looking at the new recruits, nearly fifty in number. Mostly filled with boys who wanted to make a quick buck and men who didn't have any other choice besides banditry, the group was a sorry lot. "How are you going to decide which ones to keep?"

Sealen's face was impassive. "The same way we will decide if we keep you or not," he said to the tactician. "You will be put to a test."

"Figures," Mark muttered. Eubans hadn't said anything about a test – but, then again, he hadn't wanted Mark in the first place. They were probably conspiring to get rid of him behind his back. "What kind of test?"

"It will be practice," Sealen told him, glancing away from Mark. "That's all you're going to get from me. Watch over the recruits for a moment while we check the last of the taverns?" Without waiting for a response, Sealen strolled into a nearby bar.

"Check the last of the taverns, pah. If he wanted to get drunk, he could have just _said_ so." Mark looked at the crowd of recruits and noticed that there were no other members from Sealen's unit visible.

"I don't get why we have to stand out here while they get to drink," whined one of the men to his neighbor. "And carrying our weapons the whole time, to boot! These things are _heavy_, you know?"

"I left mine back at the camp," the neighbor said smugly to the first man. "I've been in service before, and your commanding officer always loves to pull shit like this on you. The guy probably won't even notice me going back to get it, he'll be so drunk!" Obviously, he was lying – if he had been in a mercenary group before, he would know never to leave his weapons behind…

Warning bells flashed inside Mark's head. _Sealen mentioned a test, and then he, and everyone else who has any experience with working together during combat disappeared. Everyone was told to bring their weapons, but many of the recruits have put them down or away. Nobody's on guard. Something is very wrong here._

"You, and you," Mark said, pointing at the men who were talking. "I want you both at the village entrance."

"What?" demanded the man who had left his weapons at the camp. "We were told to wait here while they searched for more men. You can't order us away."

Mark bit his lip on the first two responses that came to mind – _"Get used to taking orders from me", "If you don't, you'll be dead within a matter of minutes"_. No matter how much time he wasted, if he couldn't convince these men that his orders _should_ be followed, then they would never listen to his plans. _My test, indeed._

"Listen," he said slowly, as if speaking to a child. "The last of the harvests are coming in, and there is a huge grain barn in the middle of the town. During the winter, with less people to work the fields, the town is more prepared to deal with bandits. But, while people are still gathering up the last of the harvest, bandits will take the opportunity to rob the town of all of its stockpiled food. At that point, it doesn't matter if you're a townsperson or not, they will gladly cut you down for the fun of it. Now, unless if you want to have your throat cut when the bandits swarm the town, I suggest you go to the town gates to give us warning for when the bandits arrive."

Although heads were nodding along with the explanation, a few remained skeptical. "If there's a problem, then why aren't Eubans' Mercenaries worried about it?" a man shouted. "They're all off in the taverns. There's nothing to worry about! You're just trying to exhaust us before they start eliminating us!"

"If you don't get moving, you'll be eliminated in a much less pleasant way," Mark snapped, patience at an end. "Anyone who wants to live today, prepare for battle. And, as I said, I need two men at the town gates to watch for bandits!" Mark noticed that perhaps only a third of the recruits actually moved to do as he said, picking up their weapons and vulneraries and coming up to him. The man without his weapon walked over and grabbed that of one of the people who had ignored the tactician before leaving for the gate.

"Right," Mark said, surveying the recruits and their weapons. He was pleased to note that although there was a majority of sword-users, there was also a few bowmen and people fingering hand-axes. "Who here has ever been in actual combat before?" By the show of hands, the tactician's dismay grew.

"Well," he said, "those of you who have been know it's a messy business and nothing goes according to plan, but I'll try to keep you alive. If our scouts see the bandits before we're done planning here, they'll let us know. We want to meet them outside the village, in case the villagers decide they want reparations for anything we destroy. I doubt any of you need the weapon triangle explained to you…" Mark trailed off as he saw sheer confusion on a number of faces.

"Oh, for the love of Ashera," he muttered. _Why did any of you join up if you didn't know something as basic as that? _"Swords have a longer reach than axes and are easier to defend with. Lances have a longer reach than swords, and a sword isn't very good at blocking a jab of a lance. And axes are almost impossible to block with a lance. Remember that – those are among the basics of combat."

"Now," he continued, glaring at the men whose embarrassment was clearly written on their faces, "bandits tend to favor axes because the guards of each territory sent to clear them out wield lances. Because of this, we'll have our sword-users at the front. We're going to form a border protecting our bowmen and other long-distance attackers, and they'll fire on the bandits from between the swordsmen. Anyone who doubts their ability to do so will remain at the top of the wall and attack the bandits from there. Our objective is to drive them away – do _not_ give chase if they flee, and do _not_ break formation for any reason less than toppling over dead. Any questions?"

Mark took their dumbfounded stares to be a 'no'. "Let's move," he snapped. As the recruits began to move towards the gate, Mark took a look back at the tavern Sealen had disappeared into. The man was seated at an open window, where he had clearly heard everything Mark had just said. Smirking, Sealen raised a tankard of ale and Mark sighed.

_Practice, huh? At least the ones who last won't balk at following my plans…_


	26. Dove

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Aw, no guesses. Oh, well. If I'm not struck by an idea, I'll probably just go without a side-story. Probably easier that way. Of course, if you guys want to suggest something, I'm always open to ideas.

I _liked_ writing this one. I liked it almost as much as writing one of the ones that's coming up in the future. Anyways, as always, tell me what you think. Enjoy!

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#25 – Dove

Lyn's smile twitched, and only the disapproving glare of Reissman kept her from kicking the oaf in front of her somewhere unpleasant. After an extremely long argument, finally won by an exclamation in front of her grandfather that the chancellor was trying to suppress her heritage, Reissman had done her a favor by not insisting she wear one of those ridiculous ball gowns, but allowing her to wear Sacaen formal garb. If she aggravated him, nothing would throw him off stuffing her into one of those fabric prisons. "Really, Lord Layhan?" she said slowly, teeth gritted. "I had _no_ idea."

"Oh, it's well known, my dear," the man said, ignoring her stronger grip on his arm. "The ladies of the court should in no way hold any position of power. It is noble of you to play along with your grandfather and assume the position of the strong, Sacaen heir, but when he dies, you should give good thought to who you marry. After all, the throne of Caelin depends on your husband and his heir."

"Lord Layhan." Kent's tone was clipped as he approached the two of them. "I believe that your brother was asking for you. He awaits you in the dining hall." With one final "Remember what I said!" the man broke off his dance with Lyn departed.

Lyn blinked at the newly-appointed Knight Commander, dressed in formal wear. "They made you get dressed up for this?"

"Unfortunately, the Knight Commander is required to attend these functions as dressed up as they can make him," Kent said drily. "Lord Layhan is one of the most…outspoken nobles in the Lycian League. If nothing else, his continued survival will speak volumes to the rest of the guests. Shall I escort you to a seat, milady? I believe that several other lords have requested the pleasure of your company…"

"Are they anything like that bigot?" Lyn asked. As Kent bit his lip, she sighed. "I can't take this. I really can't, Kent. If I have to listen to any more about ladies being the 'gentle doves' of the court, I'll cut someone's head off. I'm surprised none of the other ladies have done so, yet."

"As satisfying as it might be as an outlet for tension, proving the nobles right about your so-called 'barbaric heritage' can only lead to difficulties in the future," Kent remarked, before glancing to Reissman. "In light of your feelings, it would probably be best for you to depart before Lord Layhan finds out that his brother did not send for him." As Lyn started, surprised, Kent beckoned the chancellor over.

"Lady Lyndis is feeling somewhat faint," Kent informed the man. "Although it is unfortunate, she will retire for the night." Reissman threw a disbelieving look at Lyn. Even though he had only known the girl for a couple of months, both of them knew that she was not the kind of person to beg off her duties because of a headache. Lyn smiled weakly as she took Kent's proffered arm. "I…apologize for the trouble?"

Reissman sighed. "I shall convey your excuses to the assembled guests. Perhaps you could recover from your malady before the dancing ends?"

"I'll do my best, Reissman," Lyn promised. She and Kent strode out of the ballroom before she relaxed, releasing his arm. "Thank you."

"It was my pleasure, milady." Kent looked distinctly uncomfortable. "If that lout had continued to insult you and Lord Hausen, I'm not sure what I would have done."

Lyn frowned. "Insult Grandfather? He wasn't exactly subtle about insulting me, but how would his remarks…oh. He's saying that Grandfather is foolish for naming me as his heir, isn't he?" At Kent's nod, her look darkened. "I'll _kill_ him. I'll go to the dining room and kill him _now._"

"I must beg you to reconsider, milady," Kent said. "Disregarding the fact that we just left the ballroom so you wouldn't do anything of the sort, the servants would be mortified at having to wash out bloodstains from the tablecloths." When the joke did nothing to abate her anger, Kent sighed. "Murdering your guests is bad form, milady. Despite the insults, your Grandfather would not be pleased at all if you killed Lord Layhan."

"Then what am I supposed to do?" Lyn demanded. "Am I just supposed to stand there and let him insult Grandfather? I refuse to merely smile and nod at those comments, like those simpering doves that that oaf talks of!"

"Nor should you," Kent replied. "If you suggest that he is insulting his host and he does not refute it, then that is grounds to throw him out." They had reached Lyn's room by now, and the girl blinked as they continued on past it. "What are we doing?" she asked.

Kent gestured to the training grounds, near which Lyn had insisted on having her room. "I know I am no substitute for Lord Layhan, but if it contributes to keeping him alive until he rides across our borders tomorrow, I will do my best to take his place." Kent walked straight to a weapons rack and took down two practice swords, handing one to Lyn.

"But won't this ruin your clothes?" Lyn asked, remembering all the fuss the servants had made when she had muddied the hem of one of the dresses.

"I will probably be called on to more functions like this in the future," Kent said, although he did take off the embroidered tunic he wore over his shirt. "If anyone complains, I will tell them I was practicing being able to defend the marquess despite what I was wearing."

"That's not a bad excuse," Lyn mused as she and Kent began to warm up. "Do you think that I'll be able to use it in the near future, as well?"

"Perhaps," Kent said, before he finished stretching, moving over to the other side of the courtyard. As Lyn finished, he remarked, offhand, "You know, I never quite understood the likening of doves to peace."

"Oh?" Lyn asked, curious. "Why is that?"

"Have you ever seen an enraged dove, milady?" Kent asked mildly. "It hesitates not in attacking with both beak and claws. A few years ago, Sain tried to raise one, and got nothing but scratches for his trouble."

"Sain, raising doves? I find that hard to believe," Lyn commented. Kent wasn't given a chance to rebut, though, as Lyn brought her sword up into the 'ready' position and he copied. As they flew at each other, all thoughts of the ill-mannered Lord Layhan and his poor comparison left Lyn.


	27. Isolation

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

We're drawing to a close on the in-between arc, so if I don't get any ideas for the side-story soon, I'm going to have to stick with my original plan when it gets written. Just...four more, not including this one. Maybe one more than that - I'm not too sure yet. So, as always, tell me what you think, and I'm still open to guesses on why the comparison between Mark and Ephidel is important.

I hope that you're not too impatient to start on Eliwood/Hector's stories, as I think I may be taking a day off between the end of the 'year between' arc and the start of Eliwood/Hector's story. Enjoy!

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#69 – Isolation

_It may be a perfect defense against bandits,_ Mark thought, _but I'm getting sick of all this snow._ After having recruited from villages throughout Laus, Tuscana, and Thria, Sealen's unit was finally headed back to Castle Laus to present the recruits for Eubans' inspection. Although the snow was light, it impeded progress greatly, as the men protested at moving so quickly through the cold.

_At least nobody's making fun of my cloak anymore. _The men of Sealen's unit had not let up on what they thought to be attempting to suck up to Ephidel, but the mocking glares had turned to jealousy as Mark's multiple layers meant that he wasn't nearly as cold as the rest of them. Mark, of course, was not helping matters by failing to commiserate with their frozen feet and legs.

"There's Castle Laus," Sealen remarked, riding alongside the tactician. "We're going to leave the recruits here for training before we return to base. They need it." Mark winced – during their brief skirmishes that Sealen had referred to as 'testing', it had become painfully clear to Mark that the new men, although strong, had no clue what they were doing and no practice in taking orders.

"_We_ return to base?" he asked. "I take it that it means this testing is over and done with?"

"One last test," Sealen said. He pointed at the castle. "Imagine this. Castle Laus has been overrun with invaders, and Lord Darin and the majority of the troops are nowhere near. Using only the recruits and a few of the regulars, how would you retake it?"

Mark glanced at him askance. "Are you in the habit of asking your tacticians to overrun your Lord's castle, especially with such poor forces? I'm not sure if I want to answer if it leads to my imprisonment."

"You will not be," Sealen said. "Answer the question."

Mark frowned. "With no idea of the force's strength and with the men we have currently…I'd suggest a surprise attack. As Laus' trusted mercenaries, you probably know each of the entrances into the castle. Break in from as many fronts as we can afford to divide our men into, and aim for…the throne, as a rallying point. If it's unable to be taken quickly and we lose the element of surprise, I'd fall back. Our men aren't that good, and if the invaders are strong enough to get the Marquess and his troops out…" Mark trailed off and stared at Sealen. "You're worried about it happening in the near future."

"That is not true," Sealen said quickly. "It was merely a theoretical exercise."

"You're not worried about the strength of the men," Mark continued, "because if you were, you would never try to throw our untrained people at them. You think someone's going to lure Lord Darin away and take the throne in his absence!"

"What would merely taking the throne entail?" Sealen scoffed. "The people of Laus would never listen to a usurper, and the armories and treasuries are sealed with multiple keys worn on the king and two of his trusted generals. There is nothing to be gained by taking the throne."

"Some people don't care about who sits on the throne, as long as they don't do anything to them," Mark countered, a stab of memory hitting him. "And if Lord Darin wasn't on the throne, seeking help from the Lycian League would lower his position…" He started as the rest of his thoughts painted a horrible picture.

_This Ephidel is said to have much influence over Lord Darin. He came recently and is capable of luring Lord Darin away, and nobody knows his motives. Even if Lord Darin was able to retake the castle, the Lycian League would see him losing it in the first place as weakness, and would move in to tear Laus apart. Sealen's men have mocked me openly for looking like Ephidel, accusing me of trying to curry favor with him…_

"It's not true," Mark choked out. "I have nothing to do with him!"

"Commander Eubans did receive word from Caelin, confirming your whereabouts for the two months before you joined us," Sealen said mildly. Despite his words, his eyes clearly called Mark a liar. "But nothing about before that is mentioned. And you are well-informed about the repercussions of losing the castle."

"That's because I'm not an idiot!" Mark protested. "Any fool could figure out that not having the ruling lord on the throne is a bad idea!"

"Is that so," Sealen mused. He looked back. As they were passing the castle, the recruits had branched off, led by one of the more senior members of the unit. "Nevertheless, yours was a good answer. Perry merely tried to curry favor, saying there was no way someone could take Castle Laus in the first place."

"I'm not in the habit of lying to my superiors about tactical situations," Mark said, ignoring the fact that he _was_ in the habit of lying to them about almost everything else.

"Is that so," Sealen repeated. As the rest of the recruits filed into the castle, he spoke again. "The snow makes Laus rather hard to travel in," he remarked, almost carelessly. "And the base is a long way from the castle in the snow. That way, the castle guard doesn't complain about us trying to replace them, or any such rubbish. During the winter, we are quite isolated from the rest of Laus. Nice and cozy…just the regulars. And you, now, of course."

"Of course," Mark responded, trying his best to hide his nerves. Even though he was completely innocent of any contact with Ephidel, that wouldn't stop the fanatically loyal mercenaries from trying to wring every scrap of information from his neck. _And trying to run now would only bring their wrath down on me faster. Ashera bless me, may I survive this winter intact…_


	28. Tenor

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

This one was...difficult for me to write. In order to do this, I had to come to a major decision about pairings and such, and while I'm not _quite_ set on the pairing presented in this part, I'm getting there. It's weird, because I've never done the support in-game, preferring to use other supports. Special, huh?

Wow. Once more, I am stunned by the power of reviews. I've now had...(checks) 75 percent of the guesses stating that Nergal _made_ Ephidel to look like Mark, when it was originally just a coincidence that I wanted to exploit. At least, when you look at the official art for the morphs, they look like Mark. So, yeah, on that note, you're all correct, because it's such a great plot twist that even though I ignored it initially I'm going to _have_ to put it in somewhere. So far, one person has gotten _half_ of the situation down pat. There's one other half of the equation, though, that's going to come up pretty soon, so please send me your input!

Oh, and I'm going to start the next side-story pretty soon. Just a heads-up, there. Enjoy!

#125 – Tenor

"So, sub-commander, how goes the work?" Lyn teased. Sain bolted up from the bed of hay he had been sleeping atop, before he realized it was just Lyn. "Elimine take it, you scared me, milady," he gasped.

"What is it that the sub-commander does, anyways?" Lyn asked, as Sain lay back down. "As far as I can tell, your duties are the same as any other guard's, except you seem to spend more time flirting and slacking off, apparently."

"Slacking off?" Sain demanded, mock horror crossing his features. "Why, I'm merely here to ensure that nobody thinks it's a good idea to take a nap in the stables!"

"Nobody but you, apparently," Lyn rebutted. She climbed the bale and sat next to the cavalier. "And you still haven't told me what you do."

"Well, while Kent deals with the nobles and makes sure none of our troops do anything to antagonize or embarrass _them_, I'm the citizens' liaison," Sain responded. "I take the impressions of our patrols and use that to figure out if a village is close to rebelling, or if they need a boost in morale, things like that. I also take over for Kent if he's busy making nice with your fellow nobles."

"Is that why you weren't at that 'Welcome to Caelin' ball Grandfather threw for me?" Lyn asked. "Because you were busy doing Kent's work?"

"Ah, no." Sain grinned sheepishly. "When I found out the date, I put myself on patrol duty. All those lovely flowers, not the least of which was yourself…if I said something embarrassing in front of one of them, I fear I should never forgive myself."

"It's never stopped you before," Lyn pointed out. "But the work you do sounds impressive. I'd never thought about the effort that must go into being in charge of the marquisate's troops. Why are you napping here, instead of in your room?"

"Ah…that's because of my duties," Sain confessed. "Whenever I need to take a break, everyone knows that I go to the stables. That way, if I'm needed, I can be found without having to tramp over half the castle."

"That's…really responsible of you, Sain," Lyn said, trying to keep the surprise out of her voice. She had thought that the knight would have said something about meeting horse-riding ladies, but he was far more thoughtful than supposed.

"Sain," a voice came from the doors. Groaning, Sain sat up and regarded Kent. "We have a newcomer. Would you show him around the place?"

"Of course," Sain agreed. "I beg your leave, Lady Lyndis?" After she nodded, he hopped off the bale of hay, swept her a bow, and left, the red-haired newcomer following him.

"Lady Lyndis," Kent murmured, turning to leave.

"A moment, Kent," Lyn said, halting the knight in his tracks. "If it's not too much trouble?"

"Not at all, Lady Lyndis," Kent responded, turning back to face her and walking over. "How may I serve?"

"I haven't seen you since the night of the ball," she remarked. "I wanted to know how you were. Actually, now that I think about it, I've only seen you once or twice before that, since our return to Caelin."

"My new duties have kept me busy," he replied apologetically. "I have been supervising the recruitment and training of new soldiers, to replace the ones…" The knight trailed off, loath to broach such a delicate subject.

"To replace the ones we killed." Lyn held no such qualms. "The soldiers of Caelin, who were just doing their duty and could not refuse their lord's brother…those soldiers, who had families inside our borders…"

"It is not your fault, milady," Kent insisted gently. "And many soldiers _did_ find refuge amongst the villages of Caelin, instead of fighting us."

"What would you have done, Kent?" Lyn demanded suddenly. "If you had stayed here, and Lundgren had told you that I was a fake, trying to take the throne of Caelin, and had to be eliminated? Tell me the truth."

"I…I would have done my duty," he answered, uncertainty clear on his face. "If I had stayed here, I would have rode out amongst the knights of Caelin."

Lyn bit her lip. "I see." The two of them stayed in silence for a few moments. "If…if for some reason, Grandfather told you to kill me now, would you do so?" Her eyes begged honesty, but the cavalier said nothing. "Kent?"

"I do not know what I would do, Lady Lyndis," Kent said quietly. "But no matter what, I would find out the reason before anything else."

"…Thank you, Kent," Lyn said, not understanding why her heart felt like it was in her throat. "For your honesty…and for your loyalty to Caelin. Thank you."

Kent seemed lost for words. "…Milady…I apologize, I–"

"No," she interrupted. "I asked you to tell me honestly, and you did. You have nothing to be ashamed of. If anything, I should apologize for putting you on the spot like that. I hope…" She paused as she jumped off the bale.

Unfortunately, her distracted landing was far from graceful, and she stumbled across a handle to a tool someone had forgotten to put away. She panicked as she began to fall, when a pair of hands caught her arms, stopping her descent.

She glanced up into the worried eyes of Caelin's Knight Commander. "Milady? Are you all right?"

"Ah…yes…yes, I am," she said, flushing at the embarrassment of falling. "I'm sorry."

"There's no need to apologize," Kent told her, and if it was about the current situation or the previous conversation, Lyn couldn't tell which one. "I…should be going," he finally said, letting go of her. "By your leave."

Lyn blinked at Kent's retreating back. "Ah, wait up!" she called, running after him. As he turned, inquisitive, her mind raced. "You…you never told me just why Sain was raising doves, you know," she finally said.

He blinked, surprised at the statement. "Oh! Well, it started when a young lady in the castle town, Kennice by name, asked him if he could take care of her pet…" Their voices trailed off as they walked down the corridor, no destination in mind. Unbeknownst to them, the tenor of their interaction had been completely blown off-track, moving onto a different path entirely.


	29. Languish

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

I don't really have much to say. I've caught a cold, or something similar, so if I'm late updating anything in the near future, be assured that I'd probably be as dismayed as you would be over the delay.

Enjoy!

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#77 – Languish

Mark refrained from groaning as he felt the presence behind him. Over the last three months, his 'fellow mercenaries' had taken to irritating him however they could. By this point in time, he questioned if they remembered they were doing this to him because he was suspected of being an agent for Ephidel, or if they had forgotten and it had merely fallen into habit to haze the tactician.

He turned, and blinked. Instead of seeing the expected group of mercenaries ready to soak him with freezing water, or tie him up and interrogate him about his ties with Ephidel, or any other of their preferred methods of entertainment, the commander was standing there. "Sir," he said, closing the book and nodding. "What can I do for you?"

"I…am given to understand that you have been bothered by my men," Eubans phrased delicately. "I would like to assure you that it was merely cabin fever, and I do not hold with any of their actions."

"If you say so," Mark agreed, thinking all the while _But you aren't doing anything to curb their excesses, are you?_ "Is that all, sir?"

"No." Eubans reached into a pocket and pulled out a letter, handing it to Mark. As Mark took it, examining the seal, Eubans said, "Now that the spring is coming, Lord Darin has asked us to act as couriers. I want you to take charge of bringing this to Pherae."

"I see," Mark said, examining the flowing script that read 'Lord Elbert'. "Should I deliver this personally to Lord Elbert, or would it be acceptable for me to hand this to a servant to give to him?"

"It is urgent," Eubans said, frowning. "Make sure he is the only one, other than yourself, to receive the letter. Lord Darin has asked for a reply – make sure you get that, as well." When Mark nodded, Eubans wrinkled his brow, as if trying to remember something.

"Mark," he finally said. "I understand that no matter what…has happened to you, you have been prudent in dismissing all claims that Master Ephidel would want to take the throne." Well, that wasn't quite true. Mark had only claimed that he would never work for a marquisate-stealing bastard, so would they stop accusing him already and untie him? Apparently, Commander Eubans had taken that to mean that he _was_ working for Ephidel, but the man wasn't plotting to take over Laus. "I would like to thank you for that."

"Then you don't believe the rumors that Master Ephidel is merely using the Marquess as a puppet?" Mark asked. He observed Eubans' indignity with curiosity. The man truly believed that either his Marquess could never be deceived, or that Ephidel could do no wrong. Of course, it was possible that both were innocent, but Mark _had_ been living in Laus for the last few months. He assumed that preparing for war wasn't something one usually did when there was nothing changed.

"Not at all," Eubans said. "I have spoken to the man, and I am sure he has Laus' best interests at heart. And I am sorry for the indignities you have suffered for upholding this belief. Master Ephidel has heard of this, and he wanted me to convey his appreciation to you." Crap. Mark hadn't been _planning _on trying to get the man's attention, much less justifying the men in his torment. "He has recommended, and I agree, that you be placed in a post where, hopefully, people will be loath to harass you. Therefore, at Master Ephidel's suggestion, you will wait in Pherae when your accompanying unit returns with Lord Elbert's reply."

"You're…firing me." Mark's voice was calm, despite the fact that his thoughts cried out for blood. "What work could Eubans' Mercenaries have in Pherae?"

"I am not," Eubans said hastily. "There will be regular correspondence between Pherae and Laus for a time. Master Ephidel merely…wishes to ensure that Lord Elbert has one of our trusted members in hand, who can advise him well."

Mark groaned mentally. In trying to proclaim his innocence, apparently he had been too vehement, and so this Ephidel now thought he was a willing lackey. Perhaps he was trying to set up a way to manipulate Marquess Pherae as well as Marquess Laus? Whatever it was, it boded ill for Mark, who wanted nothing to do with the man.

"You'll leave in the morning," Eubans said, taking Mark's silence as acceptance. "Thornton's unit will be escorting you. We look forward to the time when you're in Laus again." He strode out of the room, and Mark slumped. True, he had been languishing, cooped up with a bunch of men who hated his guts, but this? "Out of the frying pan into the fire," he muttered.

"Indeed." Mark glanced up sharply as Sealen entered the room through the same door Commander Eubans had left. He took a seat opposite Mark.

"If this is another interrogation session followed by a thinly-veiled hint to kill me if I talk to Ephidel, I'm _really_ not in the mood," Mark told him.

"No," Sealen told him. "My men have been watching you closely, tactician."

_Really? I hadn't noticed._ "And?" Mark asked.

"Despite your obvious discomfort, you have named no names to either the commander or to…outside parties," Sealen said. "Even when it would have greatly benefitted you – and Master Ephidel. I am forced to come to the conclusion that you are _not_ an agent of that man."

"And it only took you three months to figure it out." Mark was, justifiably, peeved. "Bravo. What do you want – a graceful acceptance of your most _sincere_ apologies?"

"That would be pointless," Sealen said, either missing or ignoring the sarcasm. "You would never give such a thing. No, I wish for you to deliver this to Lord Elbert, as well." He handed Mark another letter.

"What's _in_ all of these letters?" Mark demanded. "And why didn't you just give it to the Commander to give to me?"

"This letter is from _me_," Sealen said. "Commander Eubans…after speaking to that man, he has grown fanatical in his devotion to both Laus and Ephidel. I will die for my commander if need be, but he is now blind to the possibility of Ephidel turning on Laus. He is no longer the man I once knew and agreed to serve."

Mark blinked. "That letter contains something I would be duty-bound to turn over to someone in authority if I knew the contents, wouldn't it?"

"Most likely," Sealen agreed. "But, as I have said, my men have been watching you closely. You respect no authority here in Laus. You think Lord Darin a fool for allowing himself to be manipulated so blatantly, you do not serve Master Ephidel, and you believe Commander Eubans to be someone unworthy of your allegiance."

"Do your men also know how many times I wake up in the middle of an average night?" Mark demanded, shaken. He had thought that he had been good at ferreting out spies when he caught Matthew, but for Sealen's men to know so much that he didn't say in front of others… Mark found himself wondering just _how_ much of his behavior he'd thought hidden had been reported back to _Ostia_.

_Ashera, I messed up…just like when I failed to catch Nasir in time…_ Mark blinked. _Another_ scrap of memory he'd have to hold onto until he was in the privacy of his room…or perhaps, the privacy of Pherae. Getting out of the base was looking up every minute he thought about it.

"Please make sure that Lord Elbert reads that letter along with Master Ephidel's," Sealen said, standing to leave.

"Don't you mean Lord Darin's?" Mark asked, curious. After all, it was the seal of the Marquess on the letter…

"I mean what I said." As Sealen left, Mark found himself scrutinizing the envelope. The mercenary had much better handwriting than Mark would have given him credit for. _Well, I'm done with this. Once I get into Pherae, I'm not coming back to Eubans' Mercenaries – or Ephidel, for that matter – for all the gold in Elibe. There's far too much at work here that I don't want to be tangled up in. No matter what happens now, my time of languishing is over._

Mark glanced around the room for a moment, assuring himself that none of Sealen's men were there with him, then he pulled out his journal and began to write. The book was almost three-quarters full now, and Mark hadn't learned anything _important_ yet, like his name, or where he was from, or what he _actually _did for a living. He would have to buy a new journal, soon. Perhaps in Pherae?


	30. Xenophobia

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Yeah, so I know I was supposed to have one of Lyn next, but hers is going to wrap up the arc, and so I'm going to put it up tomorrow. This one has been planned ever since I saw the word on the prompts list, and I figured it was probably better to bring it up _before_ Mark is supposed to know about it.

Oh, and before I forget, we just passed 5000 hits! Thanks, everyone, and I hope you continue to enjoy this as we get into Eliwood/Hector's stories!

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#142 – Xenophobia

Mark sighed as he tried to find a quiet corner to hide from notice. The magistrate had dragged him from his room, claiming that even a recluse like the tactician had to go outside on a _festival_ day. Personally, Mark was finding the whole experience trite and purposeless, but he quickly found, to his chagrin, that the magistrate had apparently roped in the rest of the town on the whole act, and nobody was letting him sit in a corner and read his new books in peace.

Mark cursed the situation that had led him to this point. Upon reading Lord Darin's letter, Lord Elbert's countenance had turned pale, only to be surpassed when he read the letter from Sealen. Immediately, he had ordered his knights to prepare, pausing only to take Mark into the nearby village and ask the magistrate to put up a room for the tactician at the inn until Lord Elbert returned. Bemused, the magistrate had done as he asked, even convincing the innkeeper to waive the bill, and now…well…here he was.

At least the festival was dying down with the coming of night. As the sky darkened, small children were less likely to come up to Mark and invite 'Mister Grumpy' to play with them. The first few blank refusals had led to tears and angry glares from concerned mothers, and children were awfully good at seeking out the places where Mark had tried to secrete himself.

"Mister Mark?" Mark glanced up at a green-haired girl who he vaguely recognized as the magistrate's daughter. Apparently, the term 'child' applied to teenagers, as well, as the last few adults who had walked past hadn't noticed him at all. "Mister Aldan is going to tell the tale of the Scouring in a bit, and father thought you might like to hear it."

"All I want is for this festival to be over, so I can go back and read," Mark said caustically. "What would I want to hear a story for?"

"Please?" begged the girl. "Mister Aldan's a very good storyteller, and he only tells the story during the spring festival and the harvest festival…even though the Scouring is common knowledge, it sounds even better when he tells it!"

'_Common knowledge', huh? Looks like another hole in my memory…well, it wouldn't hurt to get this hole patched._ "I suppose," he sighed, standing up.

"Yes!" the girl exclaimed. "You won't regret it, I promise!" She grabbed him by the hand, ignoring the way he stiffened at the contact, and dragged him along to the town square. Glancing around, she pulled him over to an open spot in the middle of the crowd.

"Hear one, hear all!" boomed the man standing in the middle of the square. "And listen well to the tale of the Eight Heroes, and their battle against the loathsome beasts of old, the dragons…"

Mark stood transfixed as the man outlined how eight men and women gathered together to drive the dragons out of Elibe and found the countries. Throughout the tale, he was hit with little specks of memory, begging him to write them down, coupled with a definite sense that he _had_ heard this tale before, only in a different vein…

"…_gathered their weapons together and warped the laws of the world…"_

"…_murdered the dragons as soon as they reverted to humanoid form…"_

"…_fled the world to prevent their genocide…"_

"…and with a mighty blow, Hartmut struck down the Dark Dragon, and brought peace back to all Elibe," the man finished, basking in the cheers the crowd had given. As he bowed and left, the sky now thoroughly dark, the rest of the crowd began to disperse.

Mark did not move, even after he was the last one standing there. Something in him had been unable to join in the booing the crowd had given the dragons, or the cheers when they were slaughtered. _It's only a story,_ he told himself. _Only a tale, created to praise the founders of the nations of Elibe. Even if dragons _were_ real, there's nothing wrong with rejoicing in their departure. They aren't human, they're despicable, trying to kill us…_

It was no use. No matter how Mark tried to convince himself otherwise, the sheer level of xenophobia displayed towards the dragons left him cold.


	31. Cramming

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Apologies to anyone who thought the last chapter was the _last_ one in this arc. I think this one is a better lead-in to the next one, so. Yeah.

So! I'm going to take tomorrow off, get my thoughts and everything settled, and on Saturday, Eliwood starts out on his journey! It's been a wonderful journey, writing something that didn't _need_ to be based on storyline events but it's time to bring it back. So, enjoy, everyone!

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#13 – Cramming

Lyn smiled as she walked into the garden. "Grandfather!"

"Lyndis," Lord Hausen said, standing and embracing her. "How is my favorite granddaughter doing?"

"I'm fine," she assured him. "Everything is going well."

"I'm glad to hear that," Lord Hausen said, smiling down at her. "It brings joy to my heart to hear that you are enjoying yourself. Reissman has told me that you have taken to training with the soldiers in the morning…"

Lyn bit her lip. "I'm _sorry_, Grandfather, but sitting through all of those etiquette classes so early in the morning only puts me to sleep, and I'm always sure to make up the time when I'm done–"

Lord Hausen cut her off, chuckling. "Your mother did the same thing," he told Lyn. "Every time she couldn't stand the company of one visitor or another, she'd sneak away to the archery targets and shoot until the person left or retired for the night. Madelyn once told me that she pictured the heads of the visitors on the targets."

Lyn laughed. Although her grandfather talked about her all the time, Lyn still relished in hearing stories about her mother as a young woman. "Was that what Kent was referring to when he told me that I could use him as a substitute for Lord…for a noble I didn't like?"

"Most likely," Lord Hausen admitted. "After she left, the older nights circled stories of her among the newer recruits. You could hardly go anywhere in the castle without hearing stories of how Madelyn had snuck in a stray cat and kept it for a week without anyone finding out, or how she had referred to one of her dining companions as a 'stuffy old peacock who couldn't stop talking even if a cow started chewing on his clothing'. I believe," he said wryly, "that they were trying to hint at something, but this old man could not swallow his pride."

"Grandfather, please don't blame yourself," Lyn begged. "The important thing is that you _did_ want to see her again."

"I'm afraid that I can't comply," Lord Hausen said. "I will never forgive myself for not searching for your mother for seventeen years."

"Grandfather…" Lyn murmured. The two of them stood in silence for a few minutes, before Lord Hausen cleared his throat.

"Anyways, I _did_ promise Reissman that I'd settle this disagreement about the time when you should be learning etiquette. How about this: if you can impress Reissman tonight at dinner, then you can continue having lessons later in the day? I'm sure you can dine flawlessly by now," he joked.

"Alright," Lyn agreed, heart sinking. It always seemed as if she was using the wrong hand, or the wrong silverware, or the wrong _something _when she tried to eat. It looked like she would be doing a _lot _of studying before dinner tonight.

"Lord Hausen!" Lyn turned, as Wil entered the garden, waving as the archer smiled at her.

"What is it?" Lord Hausen's voice had gone cold. "I gave explicit orders that when Lyndis and I were talking, no-one was to disturb us." He had had to command this after what seemed like every person in the castle came to him with a problem during the time he had set aside to be spent with his granddaughter.

"I'm sorry, milord," Wil apologized, "but you have a message from Pherae, and the messenger said that it was urgent, and only for the marquess' eyes, and he won't give it to anyone but you!"

The marquess sighed. "Show him in, then." As Wil bowed and exited, Lord Hausen turned back to Lyn. "Forgive me, my dear…"

"It's fine, Grandfather," Lyn told him. "After all, it's urgent, and you can't help it."

"Still…" Lord Hausen mused, as a man came out into the garden.

"Message from Lady Eleanora, sir," the messenger said, presenting a letter. Lord Hausen took it for him, examining the seal before he broke it. As he perused the letter, his face paled.

"Grandfather? What is it?" Lord Hausen looked up, and made a shooing motion at the messenger. As the man left, the marquess folded up the letter and put it in his lap.

"Lady Eleanora has written to see if Lord Elbert has passed through our lands," he told his granddaughter.

Lyn frowned. "Marquess Pherae? Eliwood's father? He came through a while back, did he not? What's the problem?"

"He came through, yes, and he refused to tell me where he was going," Lord Hausen agreed. "He said something about it being better for me not to know. The important thing is, he never came through on the way back." As comprehension dawned in Lyn's eyes, Lord Hausen continued grimly.

"Marquess Pherae has now been missing for six months."


	32. Unaccountable

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Welcome back to 'To Lands Still Unknown'! We've finally hit Eliwood/Hector's story arc, and I promise to do my best to convey the same sense of excitement I feel in writing this to you, the readers.

From this point on, Mark will start getting more detailed flashbacks, so anyone who doesn't want FE9 or FE10 spoiled should back out now. For everyone else, I hope you enjoy!

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#136 – Unaccountable

Mark swallowed uncomfortably. "Going to search for Lord Elbert?"

"That's right," the cavalier nodded. "After he left with hardly a word to Lady Eleanora six months ago, Lord Elbert has not been seen since. We have word of him going west, but before we left, we were hoping to collect some skilled men…"

_I refuse to feel guilty about this. Just because I'm the one who delivered both letters that probably caused Lord Elbert to leave means nothing. I _refuse_ to feel guilty about…damn._ "I'm not sure how much help I could be, but I'm a travelling tactician," Mark told the knight. "I've probably worn out my welcome by this point, anyways." Not exactly true – after secluding himself for the last few months, the villagers had adopted the 'out of sight, out of mind' approach to dealing with the tactician.

"Any help would be appreciated," the cavalier said. "I'm sure you'll be of assistance. My name is Lowen." He extended a hand.

"I'm Mark." Mark shook the proffered hand. "Let me gather my things from the inn, and I'll be along directly." As Mark left the square, Lowen began approaching other villagers again, presumably to find more people to join.

"It's really not my fault," Mark said to himself once he was safe in his room. "I can't be held accountable for whatever Sealen and Ephidel wrote. I'm completely blameless in this. I'm just giving Lord Eliwood a hand because I'm curious as to what happened." He exhaled slowly. _I can't even lie to myself with no-one else in the room. Oh, yes, this trip is going to be _wonderful._ 'Hello, Mark, do you and those mysterious letters you delivered right before my father left have anything to do with the reason why he's missing?'_

"For better or for worse, though, I'm going with him," Mark told himself. The nagging feeling at the back of his head which was _not _guilt receded for a moment, and Mark took one last glance into the room, before locking the door and heading downstairs.

"Here," he said to the innkeeper, placing the key on the desk. The innkeeper's eyebrow rose. "You're leaving?" the man asked.

"I know Lord Elbert offered to pay for my stay until he returned, but…it's been six months," Mark said. "I'm going with Lord Eliwood to find him." _And summarily get systematically tortured when we actually _do_ find Lord Elbert and he tells his son that I'm the reason he went missing in the first place, but I can't afford to think about that now._

"Best of luck to you," the innkeeper said, smiling. "It'll be good to see Lord Elbert and the Pheraen knights back at home. Say…did you hear something?"

Mark frowned, opening the door. "…your new liege! Now, bring every last piece of gold, down to the smallest fleck!" A bunch of bandits cheered in the center of the town.

"Lock the doors and hide," Mark told the innkeeper, stepping out. "Bandits." As he closed the door behind him, he looked around quickly. Bandits to the center, Lowen nowhere in sight –

No, not true. Lowen's mount was galloping directly towards Mark, slowing to a walk as he approached. "Get on," the cavalier said, looking back as the bandits began making their way over.

Mark looked at him blankly. "Where?" The magistrate's daughter was already riding in front of the cavalier, clutching the horse's mane tightly, and there was hardly any more room on the mount for the tactician.

"Hey!" A bandit had broke into a run. Without further ado, Mark clambered onto the back of the horse, holding onto the knight for dear life as the mount broke into a gallop.

As soon as they were out of the town, Mark slid off the horse as it stopped. In doing so, he missed the first part of the conversation as he was on the ground, trying to catch his breath. _So…uncomfortable…Ashera be my witness, I'm never doing that again. Well, not if I can help it, that is. A horse is built for _one_ person, not three._

"A tactician?" Mark stood, recognizing the voice. _Here's where it all comes out…_

"Yes, milord. This is Mark." Mark nodded to Eliwood, who smiled. "Mark!"

"Do you know this person, milord?" Lowen questioned.

"Yes, I met Mark during the trouble in Caelin last year," Eliwood explained. "A fantastic military advisor, if memory serves."

"You honor me," Mark murmured. _And make me wonder greatly. As far as I remember, you saw none of my battles. I wonder if Matthew was actually working for you, not just for Ostia?_

"If not for Mark, the marquess of Caelin and his granddaughter, Lyn, might not have survived Lundgren's uprising," Eliwood continued, speaking to the purple-haired knight on his right. "What brings you to Pherae, my friend?"

"Ah…" How to either lie without sounding guilty or put it in a way that wouldn't get him maimed? "Well, after the battle at Caelin, I decided to travel a bit…broaden my horizons…"

"Ha! Traveling about, honing your skills?" Mark stood, frozen, as Eliwood provided his excuse for him. "Of course... a worthy pursuit. Let's give thanks to providence for our chance reunion. We have need of your aid."

"I'll lend you my skill as best as I'm able," Mark said, hardly daring to believe that he had just been offered a way out of confessing. _But once we find Lord Elbert, I'll take my leave of you before he has time to start pointing fingers. Perhaps Bern…or maybe Sacae…_

_Good work, Mark,_ he told himself bitterly as he began noting the bandits who had started to exit the town in search of more prey. _You've earned enmity in both Caelin _and _Pherae, now. No-one will believe that you're unaccountable for what you will be accused of._


	33. False

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

I've been replaying Fire Emblem recently, and I noticed something somewhat strange. When Lyn first gets to Araphen, Kent tells her that it will take her ten days to get to Caelin. But, when Isadora leaves Pherae to get to Badon, it takes her a day and a half. According to the world map, the two distances are equal, and I just noticed that the group can move across the continent within a matter of days in Eliwood's story even though it would take them months in Lyn's story. That said, in order for me to fit gameplay with the story, I'm going to have to use the timeline given to Eliwood's story whenever a set amount of time is stated, and the length of time comparable to Lyn's story for everything else.

This prompt is dedicated to everyone who guessed that Ephidel's likeness to Mark presented him with a means of control. This is the second half, which nobody guessed. I hope you enjoy!

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#42 – False

"This…was not so easy…as it seemed…" the man gurgled, falling to the ground. Bartre pulled his axe out of the man's back, and started looking around for more bandits.

"I think that's the last of them," Mark said. "Good work."

"Who's that man Lord Eliwood's talking with?" Rebecca asked. "Didn't he come with that group that started helping us out?"

"That's Lord Hector," Lowen told her. "He and Lord Eliwood have been friends since childhood."

Mark absorbed the information, frowning as he looked at the man. _Something about him seems sort of familiar…but now's not the time. I should go see what's happening._

"…He indicated that someone was watching Lord Eliwood… That someone needed him dead," Marcus was saying as Mark approached. Mark nodded to him, and Marcus nodded back.

"Hmm…" said Lord Hector. "That is troubling. Actually, a captain of the guard was watching the fight when we arrived. He was a knight of Santaruz, and yet he just stood there and let a lord be attacked. I think he was planning on seeing you die," he said to Eliwood.

"So, Mark, what do you think?" Eliwood asked, turning to the tactician.

"This is suspicious, milord," Mark told him. "You said that Lord Santaruz was a friend of your father, but a knight in his service wouldn't aid you when you needed assistance. If he was just patrolling, it's his duty to fight off bandits. That would indicate that he was given orders to the contrary."

"You think Lord Helman would order Lord Eliwood's death?" Marcus demanded. "The man helped raise Lord Eliwood! He would never do such a thing!"

"I didn't say that Lord Helman gave him orders to kill Lord Eliwood," Mark said. "I said that he was given orders to do so. This looks a lot like the situation in Caelin, a year back, when Lundgren started ordering the Caelin troops to impede our progress…"

"You might be right," Eliwood said, face falling. "Something might have happened to Lord Helman, and someone might have ordered his men to attack. We must hurry to the castle!"

"Eliwood!" Lord Hector demanded. "Who is this?"

"This is Mark," Eliwood said. Mark looked at Lord Hector, and froze, as all the small details he had previously ignored melted together.

_Blue hair. Blue eyes. Red cape. Unconventional fighting. This is _him. _Who is he? Who…my friend, my ally, my commander…but why isn't it right?_

_They're talking._ "…You're very young," Hector said to him, frowning. "We've many strategists in Ostia, but none so young."

_I'm no child. What are you playing at, sir? _"I trust my age makes no difference when it comes to my ability?" Mark asked, not once taking his eyes off of Hector's face. _You know it doesn't, why are you mentioning this? Are you trying to leave me behind? You said you needed me…_

"We've received nothing but sound advice so far," Eliwood interjected. "Mark has my trust."

"I suppose I shall witness your skills firsthand," Hector allowed. "Well met, Mark."

"Well met, Lord Hector," Mark replied. _Something's going on here, if he's pretending not to know me. And it's still all so fuzzy…I need to know what's happening. I'll keep my eyes open._

"Hello!" Mark turned to see Matthew standing behind him. "How have you been, Mark?"

"I've been well," Mark responded, wrenching his thoughts out of his musings. "I suppose now that you're here with Lord Hector, you won't be acting as a spy anymore?"

"Not toward you and your employer, no," Matthew agreed. "It's always better for one's employer to gain first-hand knowledge, isn't it? And Lord Eliwood _is_ Lord Hector's childhood friend."

_He's supposed to be _mine.

"But," Matthew continued, "I will be working as a…_thief_, if you must. Anyways, it looks like we'll be travelling together again, doesn't it? Here's to our mutual survival!"

"Agreed," Mark said. "Behind you, I thought I saw…"

"Eeeeee!" Serra squealed, shoving Matthew out of the way. "Mark, is it really you? It's been far, far too long!"

"Not long enough by anyone's standards," Matthew muttered.

"You missed me, didn't you?" Serra asked, discreetly kicking Matthew. "Of course you did. I knew it!"

"What are you doing here, Serra?" Mark asked. "Last I saw you, Erk was escorting you to Ostia, but I thought you'd be working for the church or something similar. Surely they wouldn't drag you onto the battlefield just because they needed a healer!"

"Trust me," Matthew said, "If we did, we would have picked someone less noisy."

"I didn't tell you?" Serra asked. "I'm not just with the church, I'm in the active employ of Ostia. I'll be here to help you just like before! Aren't you lucky?"

_If we have as many battles as we did while trying to take back Caelin, I'd be glad for a mule if it could heal._ "We're blessed to have you."

"Of course you are!" Serra smiled.

"We don't have much time to dawdle," Marcus warned, riding up. "We're heading out to Santaruz Castle now."

"Understood." As Marcus rode off, Mark hurried to catch up to Hector. _I'll worry about the reason why he's ignoring me later. Right now, I'm back with my commander, the man I would follow to the end of the world. _As they began to move out, Mark steadfastly ignored the feeling in the back of his head, the one that was screaming _something is wrong here, something is blurring and confusing you, this is false._


	34. Intrigue

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

I am so, so sorry that I didn't get this up in time.  I was finishing it up and getting it ready to post, when I ran into the scheduled system maintenance thing, and I wasn't awake enough to wait up until it would be done.  The next update _will_ be up tonight, so no schedule changes.

That said, enjoy!

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#68 – Intrigue

"These are all knights of Santaruz?" Mark demanded. "That's…that's not good."

"They can't be," Eliwood said, taking advantage of the brief lull in fighting. "That man…he spoke so disrespectfully of Lord Helman. Even had the marquess just passed away, his men never would have insulted him. These people…they are some other force."

"So the curs took Castle Santaruz and used it as a base to launch their attack on you? But if they wanted the people to stay peaceful, perhaps the marquess is still alive," Hector mused. "If they're holding him captive…"

"If that were the case," Mark interrupted, "then they wouldn't let the knights of Santaruz free, for fear of them attacking. And that one soldier back at the border was rather casual about if Eliwood lived or died – if his marquess had been taken, he would be urging Eliwood to hurry. Something greater is afoot here."

"Perhaps," Hector said. "Heads up, Eliwood. Enemy swordsman headed this way." Indeed, a man with hair in a long braid was making his way towards them.

"Hold on!" he yelled as Eliwood raised his sword. "I'm not here to fight you."

"It's a poor time to be running around on a battlefield if you're not going to fight," Hector said. "Why are you here, then?"

"Well, I _was_ here to fight you," the man said, scowling darkly, "but I owe a life debt to one of your men, Matthew by name. He told me that to repay it, I would have to join up with your side. So, here I am."

"Do you know what's going on in the castle?" Eliwood demanded. "What's happened to the marquess?"

"No clue," the man said. "I've been stationed at one of the forts near the castle, when I found work just a few days ago. I haven't even been _in_ the castle yet."

"I see," Eliwood sighed. "Oh, well. Mark, now that we've cleared out the men here, we should press on to the castle."

"Agreed," Mark said. He turned to the man. "Until the men know who you are and not to attack you, you'd better stick close to us…ah, I never caught your name."

"It's Guy," the man said. "Guy, of the Kutolah."

"Well met, Guy," Mark said. "The red-haired man is Lord Eliwood of Pherae, the blue-haired one Lord Hector of Ostia. I'm Mark, the tactician of this group. Now, we'd better hurry if we want to stay with them."

As they approached the castle, Mark noted two riderless horses fleeing to the west. _Hit the riders and not the horses…Rebecca's work, perhaps? Either hers or Lowen's, or Marcus'._

"You've beaten me…" The knight they had spoken with before was kneeling on the ground, only his grip on his lance keeping him upright. "But you're too late to save him…too…too bad, eh, laddie?" He began to laugh, only to suddenly lose his grip and topple forward. Matthew leaned forward to check his pulse, then slit his throat.

"We have to get to Lord Helman!" Eliwood insisted. "Open the gates." Moving close and dismounting, Marcus and Lowen prepared to use their lances as leverage, when the portcullis suddenly opened on its own.

"Please…" a man on the other side was saying. "Lord Helman…We haven't heard from him in a while. He's in his room…" Immediately, Eliwood and Hector ran in. Mark followed them.

"Drat," he muttered as he turned a corner and lost track of them. "You," he said, turning to a nearby maid. "Where's Marquess Santuraz's chambers?"

"Up the stairs, after the next right, sir," she said. "Are you with Lord Eliwood and his friend?" Mark merely nodded as he began moving again. He found the aforementioned stairs and began climbing, just to pause outside of Lord Helman's chambers.

"Go to Laus…" an old voice was saying. "Darin…the marquess of Laus…knows all." Instead of entering like he planned, Mark stood outside the room, still in thought.

"Marquess Laus…" he murmured. "And Lord Elbert's disappearance. What exactly was in that letter you wrote him, Lord Darin? And why does Marquess Santaruz know about it? What intrigue are you planning?"

_Or, rather, what intrigue is Ephidel planning? I was sent to Pherae with two letters: one with Lord Darin's seal, one written by a concerned mercenary. I thought that Sealen's letter was written to warn Lord Elbert of some danger, and Lord Darin's inviting him to Laus, but…could it have been the other way around?_ He nodded to the man who entered the room. _Ephidel wanted me to manipulate Marquess Pherae into believing…whatever it was. Maybe he had someone of a similar nature here?_

"Mark! What are you doing, skulking about here?" Hector and Eliwood had come out.

"Sorry, milord," Mark said. "You just ran off. I wanted to make sure that…nobody with nefarious purposes would try and take advantage."

"Then why didn't you come with us into the room?" Eliwood asked.

"I thought…it was to my understanding that Lord Helman was not only a friend of your father's, but a friend of yours, as well, Lord Eliwood," Mark invented. "I did not think that you would want me to intrude on your final moments."

"How much did you hear?" Hector asked. "You have to have heard something before deciding to leave us alone."

"Only that Marquess Laus knows all," Mark responded. "Other than that, nothing."

"Very well. Mark, we're moving out shortly. Tell the men?" Eliwood said.

"Have you found out what was happening, Lord Eliwood?" Mark asked. "Questioned the steward, or the servants?"

"Mark, we're moving out," Hector interrupted. "Now. I cannot sit still asking questions here when I can ask them of Lord Darin just as well."

"Very well, Lord Hector," Mark said, recognizing the dismissal of his idea. "I'll go tell the men." On his way down the stairs, he searched for the maid who had helped him before, but the corridors were deserted. _Hmph. It looks like I won't find out any more of what caused this until we reach Laus._


	35. Twilight

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

For those of you who missed it, the last chapter is what was _supposed_ to be yesterday's update. Stupid scheduled maintenance...

Enjoy!

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#134 – Twilight

"Please! You must protect me!" the merchant begged.

"Alright, already…" Mark looked around. "It's twilight now, but soon enough we won't be able to see our own noses. Do we have torches or anything like that?"

"Right here," Lowen said, pulling a torch out of a bag. "A man back in Santaruz dropped them."

"Mark," Matthew volunteered, "I can see better in this darkness than anyone else. I can serve as a lookout."

"Take the torches, then," Mark said. "Marcus, Oswin, Hector. Guard the bridges leading to this area. Bartre, Dorcas: watch that snag. Someone's bound to try and knock it over to get to us. Everyone else, get ready to move if the bandits don't come to us first. Merlinus…just stay where you are." As they began to move, Mark sighed.

Maybe it was just being in Caelin after his yearlong 'self-imposed' exile, or maybe it was the new plots springing up everywhere he turned, but Mark found himself more on edge than usual. At this point, he wasn't sure what he was worried about more: some faceless Caelin soldier locking him up in a dungeon for plotting against Caelin, or Ephidel appearing out of nowhere and…well, he didn't know. Perhaps that was what irked Mark the most – not knowing what was going on, besides the death of one marquess of Lycia and the disappearance of another.

"Mark," Matthew said, breaking him out of his thoughts, "There are bandits knocking down a dead tree to the southwest of us. I see a village to the northwest. Do you think…?"

"Probably," Mark agreed. "Lowen, get to that village before the bandits do, and warn them to close their gates. Eliwood, Guy, follow him and head off the bandits before they attack. Somebody clear off a bridge for them to cross!"

They moved, and Mark lapsed back into thought. No matter what it was, something about the situation felt…wrong. Not this particular battle, no – it was going smoothly, all things considered – but the situation in general was wrong. Lord Hector had still shown no signs of recognizing the tactician. All right, understandable if he didn't want anyone to know about their connection. Nobody had _asked_ Mark exactly _what_ he was doing in Pherae, and Rebecca hadn't corrected Eliwood's perception of events. Was that the origin of the feeling of unease – was the girl setting him up?

Mark glanced over at the girl, firing arrows at the bandits. From what he knew of the girl, Rebecca didn't have it in her to try and blackmail him over something as trivial, but his perceptions had been proven wrong before.

"Heh, looks like you've breathed your last!" The leader had either gotten tired of waiting, or had realized that his men would be unlikely to try and continue the fight once true dark fell. Either way, he had finally joined the battle.

"Yeah, right!" It looked like the group Mark had sent out earlier had succeeded in driving their bandits away, and had come back to regroup. As Guy began fighting the leader, Matthew shook Mark to get his attention. "I only see a handful of bandits left," he reported. "And those ones are hanging back. If we take out their leader, they'll probably leave."

"Got it. Oswin, Marcus, use your javelins. Rebecca, how many arrows do you have left?" As she showed him her quiver, the tactician frowned. "Never mind. If we get into any more battles before we can get you more arrows, pick your shots wisely."

The worst part about not knowing what was going to happen was the knowledge that, as soon as Mark found out, he was going to _kick_ himself for not seeing it in the first place. There was something obvious that he was missing, and Mark felt absolutely helpless in the face of whatever was coming. He _hated_ that.

_It's always darkest before the dawn,_ he tried to reassure himself. _As soon as you figure out what you're missing, you can solve all of this, and go back to forgetting about it, except when you want to laugh at yourself…_

It was for naught. No matter how he tried, he couldn't dispel the anxiety he was feeling.


	36. Smarmy

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

I am so, so sorry about the wait. For everyone who hasn't visited my profile recently, my computer died, along with my background information and the story as it was written so far. I thought it was the charger and took steps to get a new one, but it turns out that it's worse than that. I'm getting the computer to a repairman tomorrow, so that should be better. Thank you _very_ much for being understanding.

I've decided to divide False Friends up into two parts, just because of the wealth of events that occur during this chapter. I hope you enjoy!

(And, once again, I'm _very_ sorry.)

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#115 – Smarmy

"Where is everyone?" Rebecca asked, frowning. "Nobody's working the fields we've been passing. The crop will go to waste if they don't get it in before winter."

Mark nodded. "There's not many reasons that a territory would neglect its harvest," he agreed. "If there was an emergency of some sort that required all able-bodied men, or if it planned on getting food from…other fields. Either one is indicative of Laus preparing for battle and taking the supplies of the loser to make up for the lost harvest."

"But who? Laus is in the middle of Lycia. It's not like Araphen or Ostia, where they always have to take men to watch the borders." At Mark's glance of surprise, she explained, "My father is the town's magistrate. He has to know about all sorts of places in Lycia, to make sure that he knows how to deal with anything that might come up."

"Right," Mark agreed. "Smart of him. Perhaps he wants to start a war with Etruria or Bern? When I was in Bern a year ago, I heard something about the prince coming of age soon. If Laus wants to strike, there isn't likely to be a better time to sow chaos than then."

Rebecca shrugged. "Laus prolly couldn't take Bern on their own, you know. They'd have to get the rest of the Lycian League behind them. And a bunch of territories say they don't want fighting. Plus, Laus would have to go through a bunch of territories to even get to Bern."

"Mmm." Mark frowned. _Was Lord Darin trying to get the support of the rest of the League to declare war? If he was, why would he kill Marquess Santaruz? What possible obstacle would prove to be so great that Lord Helman's death was required to surmount it?_

"Lord Eliwood!" Marcus' voice, trained over years to get recruits to sit up and pay attention, carried well. "A knight has ridden forth from the castle."

"A lone knight?" Mark heard as the group grew closer to Eliwood, trying to eavesdrop discretely.

"Yes, my lord," Marcus said. "Lowen says that it's Marquess Laus' son, Erik. He is asking to see you."

"Erik?" Eliwood asked as Mark wracked his brain for any earlier mention of the marquess' son. _Something about…being a credit to his father?_

"Gah. Why did it have to be that buffoon?" Hector grumbled. _Or maybe not._

"I will see him," Eliwood decided. "Bring him here."

"I'm leaving," Hector said as Marcus rode forth to relay the message. "I could never abide him. I'll go and survey our surroundings." As Mark was about to go with him, ready to cite safety in numbers, he saw Oswin follow Hector and thereby eliminate his excuse. He bit down the urge to curse. _Plenty of time to ask him about his motivations later,_ he assured himself.

"Hello!" greeted the man who rode up. "It's been a long time, Eliwood." Mark instantly disliked him. Something about Lord Erik grated on his nerves.

"Erik…" Eliwood mused. "What is your business?"

"My business? What do you mean?" Erik asked, his voice oozing sincerity. "I heard my _old_ friend was here in Laus. I merely thought I'd ride out to greet you!"

Mark sighed. Whatever the man wanted, he was going about getting it rather poorly. Even Bartre, who had proclaimed last night to Mark that "big words made his head hurt!" was looking suspicious, clearly aware that something was not right with the man talking to Lord Eliwood.

A flash of light from the side of his eye caught the tactician's attention. Mark glanced to his left. The patch of trees was completely still. Nothing seemed out of the normal, until…

There it was again! Mark, looking back at the group, saw that Marcus had noticed it, as well, and was casually making his way over to Eliwood's side. For his part, Mark moved towards Matthew. "Can you check out that area to the left?" he asked. "Something's not right."

"To the left?" Matthew demanded, frowning. "I thought you'd want me to look at the place where the flashes are coming from, behind us."

"Behind…?" Slowly, Mark moved so it looked like he was still talking to Matthew but gave him a good view of the area behind them. After a few moments, there was a flash, but not from behind.

"Damn," Mark hissed. "We're surrounded."

"What are you and your father planning?" Eliwood demanded, raising his voice. "I will know the truth!"

"Hm... I'd hoped to wait until you'd told me of Ostia," Erik sighed. "Of whether you've spoken with the marquess or not."

"What are you talking about?" Eliwood asked. Behind Erik, Mark saw Hector approaching.

"Eliwood, I have always despised you," Erik laughed. "How I've longed to smash you and your pathetic morality into pieces! I've dreamed of this day, and here it is at last!"

"Too bad you'll not live to see the end of it," Hector growled in the man's ear. As Erik spun, Mark smirked at the look of abject horror painted on the marquess' son. "Eliwood, this mongrel has troops lying in ambush all around us. Laus regulars, every one. We're in for a rough time."

As Erik postured some more before running to his horse, Mark started thinking rapidly. _Only Eubans' mercenaries come from all over Lycia – the regulars are likely from around here. If we can convince their forces that whatever they're doing is bad for Laus, or has been engineered by the mysterious Ephidel, maybe we can get them to stop fighting. If we can get some help from the locals…_

"Hee hee hee…a world of trouble you've landed yourselves in, yes?" Mark turned to see an old woman speaking to Lord Hector. _I wonder what that's about…_


	37. Expendable

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

IMPORTANT: If anyone has a copy of the game script for Talons Alight and can send it to me to otherwise prevent me from having to play through it again, I would be _greatly_ in your debt.

[/IMPORTANT]

I just realized that Erk doesn't show up in this chapter. Don't worry, he's there. The reunion with Erk would have pushed this chapter to be much longer.

As always, enjoy!

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#38 – Expendable

"Unhand me!" Mark heard the noble snap. "I am no one's prisoner!"

"Oh, do shut up," Hector grumbled, hitting Erik over the head with his mailed fist. Marquess Laus' son sank to the ground, moaning. "Someone, tie him up. I don't want him regaining consciousness and stabbing us in the back later."

Guy took a length of rope from Lowen. As he knelt to tie Erik's hands, he winced. "Gah…" he muttered.

"What's wrong?" Mark asked.

"Oh, Mark! There's nothing wrong," Guy said, gritting his teeth as he tied the rope tightly. "Why would you think anything was wrong?"

"Maybe because your arm has started to bleed again?" Mark asked, noting the stain that was beginning to spread across Guy's sleeve. The myrmidon sighed. "I could have sworn I patched it up with a vulnerary."

"And then went right back into battle, putting stress on the skin," Mark pointed out. "I'll go find Serra."

"No need." Mark turned to see a red-haired girl on a horse holding up a staff. Slowly, a healing light enveloped Guy.

"Who are you?" Mark asked as soon as the girl stopped the spell.

"My name is Priscilla," she said. "I was staying at a village south of the castle, and the knight who visited there said it would be all right if I journeyed with you. That…is all right, isn't it?" she asked anxiously.

_Who did I send down there again? …Marcus, I think. If he thought that she could be dangerous towards Eliwood or become a liability, he wouldn't have said yes._ "It's fine," Mark reassured her.

"Mark!" Eliwood called. "Let's get to the castle. The sooner we get answers out of Lord Darin, the better."

"We're coming!" Mark yelled back. He glanced around. "Priscilla, if you could tell our merchant, Merlinus, that we're going into Castle Laus? He's in the blue tent by the shore. Guy, go with her – I'm not sure that all of those pirates we saw are gone." As the two moved off, Mark ran to meet Eliwood and Hector.

"As soon as we get in, everyone head for the throne room," Hector was saying. "Marquess Laus decided to send soldiers after us: I don't see why we can't repay the action. Disable his bodyguards if you can, but don't kill them unless it's you or them."

"Where's the throne room, for those of us who've never been inside Castle Laus?" Mark asked. Matthew gave him a strange look.

"It's almost directly a straight path from the entrance," Eliwood told him. "You won't be able to miss it."

"Lord Eliwood!" Oswin said from his spot near the gate. "We have raised the portcullis."

"Let's go!" Eliwood ordered. The group rushed in, and Mark noticed the castle's similarity to that of Castle Araphen and Castle Pherae as he moved. Apparently, Lycians had similar tastes when it came to architecture and interior design.

"Lord Darin!" Hector yelled as the group barged its way through the doors to the throne room. "We have questions for…you…"

The throne room was empty, devoid of even servants tidying up. Hector swore and, striding up to the throne, kicked it. As the chair toppled backwards, no secret passage was revealed, nor was Lord Darin revealed when they searched the room.

"Check the whole castle," Eliwood said. "Lord Darin wouldn't just abandon his son as a ploy. He has to be here somewhere, and probably with soldiers, so stay in groups."

_He might not want to abandon his son, but given Sealen's suspicions of Ephidel, he might be talked into it. We're not going to find him,_ Mark thought glumly. "Perhaps we should talk to our noble prisoner?" the tactician asked after an hour had passed.

"That's not a bad idea," Hector said. "Let's see what the rat has to say. Maybe he'll spill the locations of a few secret passageways." He strode back to the main gate, Mark and Eliwood following.

Although Priscilla, Guy, and Merlinus had finally caught up and were taking shelter in the castle, Erik had been left directly outside in the rain. Hector nudged him with a toe of his boot after he had been brought in. "Come on, Erik!" he yelled. "Get up!"

"Peasants!" the noble raged. "You can't treat a _proper_ noble like this!"

"It's too late for _niceties_!" Hector sneered. "Be thankful you're still breathing!"

"Erik," Eliwood cut in with a disapproving look towards Hector, "You must tell us. Where is your father?"

"Milord," Matthew said, popping up out of nowhere. "The entire castle's been searched. Marquess Laus is nowhere to be found."

Erik paled. "D-don't be ridiculous! My father would never…abandon…" A fire lit up behind his eyes. "Ephidel…" he hissed.

"Ephidel? Who's that?" Eliwood asked. As Erik turned away, Hector grabbed his axe meaningfully. "Speak, cur!" he yelled, lifting the axe. "Do you want to die here?"

"Hector!" Eliwood yelled as Erik blanched. "Erik, please. You must tell us everything you know. I…I just want to know where my father is."

"…Ephidel…" Erik hissed. "He appeared at the castle one year ago. He came...and my father changed. Ostia's position had always bothered my father...He felt Laus deserved to rule all of Lycia. But he'd never gone so far as to speak of rebellion."

"Rebellion?" Mark murmured. _Not war, but rebellion…it makes more sense now._

"Ephidel had something...With it, he convinced my father to set this plan in motion," Erik continued, ignoring the tactician's interruption. "My father then sent envoys to several other marquesses. Marquess Pherae, he had approved of the idea."

"What?" exclaimed Hector as Eliwood cried "Never!" at the same time. "My father would never agree to such a thing!" Eliwood continued.

"Believe or disbelieve," Erik sniffed. "That is your choice. First was Marquess Santaruz. Then Marquess Pherae's reply arrived. Marquess Pherae visited here six months ago to seal his approval."

As Eliwood stammered a denial, Erik went on. "My father and yours argued vehemently that day. Marquess Pherae always distrusted Ephidel. He tried to convince my father to sent Ephidel and the Black Fang assassins out of Lycia."

_Black Fang? The name sounds familiar…_ Mark mused as Erik went on. "My father would not be persuaded, and Marquess Pherae left the castle. As you know, he then disappeared. I doubt he's still alive."

"Shut your mouth!" Hector snarled, backhanding the other noble.

"Eliwood said he wanted to hear _everything_," Erik sneered, spitting out blood. "My father... He is but Ephidel's puppet. He'll listen to anything that villain says. Even watch his own son... die... Those are the sort of people you're dealing with. Marquess Pherae betrayed them. They would not let him live!" He began laughing as Eliwood fled the room, closely pursued by Hector.

"So," Mark said, "Ephidel considers you to be expendable." The knowledge that he had caused Lord Elbert's disappearance, more than the suspicion had done, nagged heavily at him. "Why should we let you live? Reason dictates that you'll follow in your father's footsteps."

"Why," Matthew said brightly as Erik paled, "you're quite ruthless, lord tactician. Killing nobles in Lycia is as bad as regicide in Bern and Etruria, but I doubt you'd let that stop you, either. I wonder why it's so pressing that we should kill him?"

"It was a suggestion, Matthew," Mark sighed. "If Lord Darin doesn't consider him _important_ enough to stay behind for, then his death will accomplish just as much as leaving him alive would." He left the room.

Matthew followed him. "You know, Mark, I'm telling you this because we're friends," he said, smiling. "And friends don't let friends operate under false pretenses."

"False…pretenses?" Mark asked. "Matthew, are you referring to when I decided not to out you as a spy to Lady Lyndis?"

"Oh, that too," Matthew agreed. "You know, you had a _fascinating_ fall and winter last year. It was _extremely_ difficult keeping track of where you were, but friends _are_ worth the effort, weren't you?"

"What?" Mark demanded, innards freezing.

"You know, lord tactician," Matthew commented, grasping his shoulder, "Ostia has many tacticians. Take care that Lord Erik isn't the only one considered…expendable." With a pat that was meant to look reassuring but was anything but, Matthew disappeared into the shadows.

…_Yune take it, I'm stuck no matter which way you look at it._


	38. Tension

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Not much to say. Reviews make Mage happy and educate her to what needs to be changed. A happy and educated Mage writes better chapters. Better chapters lead to more reviews. Aren't circular actions wonderful?

As always, enjoy!

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#126 – Tension

"Mark!" Mark opened the door, rubbing his eyes blearily to come face to face with Dorcas. "Come quickly! We're under attack!"

"What?" Suddenly more alert, Mark followed Dorcas to the throne room. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Dorcas said. "All I know is that the defenses were breached a few minutes ago. Nobody knows how they got in. Guy said he saw someone unfamiliar and shouted, and suddenly the hallway was full of them. They look like they're going for the throne room."

"The throne?" An unpleasant recollection of a threat, snow-blindness and tactical advice given hit Mark full-force.

"My father once told me of a mercenary group extremely loyal to Laus," Eliwood was saying as Mark entered. "Their leader is someone called Eubans, also known as the Harrier. He's famed for surprise and swift attacks."

"Mark! What are your thoughts?" Hector asked. Behind him, Matthew was staring at Mark.

"If he's famed for swift attacks, he'll fall back if we hold him off long enough and he's lost the element of surprise," Mark said smoothly. "I suggest we try to hold the throne room instead of trying to eliminate them all."

"Really? But he could be using his reputation against us," Hector suggested. "If Eubans just keeps on throwing men against us to distract us while he sends a smaller force behind us to slit our throats, it would make more sense to track down the enemy."

"If we split up to engage the enemy, they'll have an easier time defeating us," Mark argued, heart sinking. Obviously, either Matthew or another spy had informed Hector of what Mark had been doing for the last year. _No wonder he's been so chilly._

"Lord Hector," he said after Hector had taken a minute to think, "either you trust me and my advice or you don't. I'm not in the habit of providing false advice. If the enemy takes the throne room, it's more likely that _they_ can hold it while we're driven out. I believe that they'll fall back if we can defend for long enough."

"Why?" Hector asked. "Why would they fall back once they've gotten into the castle?"

"It's what I would do," Mark said, glancing at Matthew. The thief was listening intently. "A force whose size and strength is unknown have taken the throne room. The main body of mercenaries would be protecting Lord Darin to make up for the men we defeated. They couldn't afford to try and wage a lengthy campaign for the castle."

After a moment, Matthew stepped forwards. "If I might suggest a compromise, my lord?" he said. "While the main body of our men defend the throne room, Mark and I will slip around to see if the force is small enough that they would leave if they can't take the throne room. If the force is too big, then we'll come back and change strategies. Does that sound acceptable?"

Hector nodded. "Fine. You two go, and we'll defend." As he turned, barking out orders to the men, Matthew tugged on Mark's arm and they left the throne room.

"You know," Mark sighed, "I left the service of Eubans' mercenaries almost seven months ago now. I hold no affection for them."

"So you say," Matthew agreed. "You left their service a few weeks before Lord Elbert went missing, and then waited in Pherae until Eliwood left to find his father. Convenient, isn't it?"

"I work for one employer at a time," Mark snapped. "That means that right now, I'm working for Lord Hector, not Eubans."

"Don't you mean Lord Eliwood?" Matthew asked, eyebrow raised.

"Right," Mark agreed, resolutely beating down a flush. _That's right. You're working for Lord Eliwood, not Lord Hector. Keep it in perspective._

"Besides," Matthew continued as they turned right, "tacticians keep their work confidential. You couldn't tell us about the specifics of what you did in Eubans' mercenaries if you wanted to work in Lycia again, so we've no proof that you didn't engineer all of this."

"No, I couldn't prove it," Mark said. "And yet, you're still alive. Unless you want to suggest next that I need to use all of you for some nefarious purpose, your lives would indicate that I'm working _for_ you. What are you doing?"

Matthew had stopped at a door and pulled out a set of lockpicks. "Well, if the mercenaries can't take the castle, they might try going for the treasury to take whatever they can back to Marquess Laus," he explained, putting a few lockpicks into the keyhole. "As such, it's our duty to raid the treasure first so they can't take it!" He paused, turning a lockpick slowly, and the door unlocked with an audible click.

"I need to get a better set of picks," the thief said mournfully, pulling out half of a lockpick. "The ones they sell commonly always seem to break on me. Come on, Mark. You can help me carry the treasure!"

"Whatever happened to checking out the enemy forces?" Mark asked, following him into the room. Before he had left, Lord Darin had obviously taken whatever he could carry with him. All that was left in the room were two sad-looking chests.

"An axe," Matthew said, opening the first chest with a pick. "Looks like silver. Lord Hector will be glad of this; he always seems to break his axes. And this one has a staff."

"Looks like a Mend staff," Mark said, examining the carvings near the top of the staff. "Too bad we stocked up at the vendor outside the castle. We'll leave this with Merlinus."

"Guard that flank," a voice came wafting into the room. The two froze. "I'll head them off here."

"Yune take it," Mark whispered. "I know that voice." _Sealen, when you said take the castle with a bunch of recruits and a handful of regulars, you were _serious_, right? Am I going to be proven wrong to Lord Hector due to faulty intelligence?_

"…Who's there?" A horse's hooves echoed on stone outside the door, and Sealen rode in. He reined in the horse.

"So, my judgment was incorrect," Sealen said. "You were working for Ephidel, after all. Allow me to correct my mistake." He pulled an arrow from a quiver.

"Don't just _stand_ there, Mark! Run!" Matthew grabbed Mark's arm and pulled him from the room as an arrow clattered against the wall behind him.

"Find us a room that the horse can't get into," Mark gasped out as they ran. "If he has to dismount, he'll think twice about chasing us."

"Here!" Matthew veered sharply to the left, and turned a door handle. He locked the door as soon as both of them were in.

"Fall back! Our plans have been discovered!" they could hear Sealen calling. His voice faded as he continued to yell, and Mark slumped as soon as it was inaudible.

"Working for Ephidel?" Matthew demanded.

"Apparently, I look like him," Mark said. "Since _everyone _in Laus seems to think that imitation is the most sincere form of flattery, they've been drawing conclusions about me since I arrived."

"Why would he think that you were working for Ephidel when all you did was _be_ there?" Matthew asked. "And _are_ you?"

"No!" Mark exclaimed. "Most of the regulars had a theory that Ephidel was going to lure Lord Darin away and take the throne in his absence. They'll assume that anyone who was here was holding the throne for Ephidel."

"So, for us, it's us against Laus, but for the mercenaries, it's them against Ephidel," Matthew mused. "The only thing that doesn't fit is your appearance in Pherae right before Lord Elbert's _dis_appearance _from_ Pherae."

"The _only_ thing that doesn't fit?" Mark opened the door and peered out. "Is that all?"

"What, you want to share more inconsistencies in your cover story?" Matthew asked as they left. "I'm listening."

"It was a joke," Mark sighed. "It doesn't matter."

"Really, lord tactician?" Matthew said. "His disappearance matters _very_ much. But, for now, I choose to believe what you've told me until I find evidence to the contrary."

"Oh, good." As they neared the throne room, Mark relaxed, letting go of his tension. Hector would finally know the truth of the matter: of that he had no doubt. Things were getting better.


	39. Kinship

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

I think, from now on, that I'm going to take one day a week off. It's very relaxing.

In-between chapter! I haven't done one of those in a while. Let me know what you think, and, as always, enjoy!

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#76 – Kinship

_5 days Castle Laus taken,_ Mark wrote. _8 hrs Sealen's ut. driven off. Earned: 0 Spent: 0. Valuable exp. in def. of area gained. MVP…_Despite not being at the battle, Mark had gotten a good account of it from Oswin. The knight was accurate to a fault and very, very observant. _MVP Lowen. Gained: none Fallen: none._ Mark folded the journal closed and tucked it into a pocket as Hector and Eliwood exited the castle, standing as he did so.

"The men are ready to move out," he reported. Eliwood nodded and raised his voice. "Let's get to Caelin before anything befalls Lord Hausen!" he said.

As the group began to pick up pace, Mark absently patted the pocket the journal was in. He had been browsing methods of keeping records while in Pherae, and this one had leapt out at him. Having no other paper he carried with him on a regular basis, Mark had taken to recording their battles in the journal he had bought to replace the one Florina had given him.

Florina. By midday, if they kept up their pace, Mark would be back in Caelin, with the rest of Lyndis' Legion. He wasn't exactly sure how he felt about that. It had been nearly a year since the tactician's self-imposed exile from the territory, and most of their journey hadn't been spent there, anyways.

"Isn't it wonderful, Mark?" Serra asked, bouncing in excitement. "In only a few hours, we'll get to see Lyn again! I can hardly wait!"

"That's if nothing's happened to her," Mark said, frowning. "After all, Marcus did say that there was no word on Lord Hausen or Lady Lyndis." And there was the crux of the problem. _He_ was the one who had created the situation that caused Laus to flee to Caelin. _Lyn_ might not see it that way, but if Sain and Kent had taken the time to talk her into it before he got there…he hadn't seen her in a year, after all. Mark couldn't imagine that his words would have much sway on Lyn's opinions anymore.

"Quit being so _gloomy,_ Mark!" Serra exclaimed. "Lyn's strong. She won't get beaten by the remnants of a force we defeated just a few days ago!"

"Lady Lyndis will be fine," Matthew agreed. "Caelin must have its share of secret passageways, same as all the other territories. The lady probably got out before Laus struck."

"That's being awfully optimistic," Mark pointed out. "It was a _surprise_ attack, after all."

"All right, let's say she was captured," Matthew said. "Lord Darin wouldn't harm the marquess' family if he could use them as bargaining chips. So, all we have to do is beat Laus again and free them."

"And if Marquess Laus holds Lady Lyndis as a hostage in front of Lord Eliwood and Lord Hector, what then?" The tactician sighed. "If they throw down their weapons, Laus' men butcher us. If we don't, they murder Lady Lyndis." _If we step wrong in either situation, they do both._

"We have to hope," Dorcas said. The man had grouped with the rest of the remnants of Lyndis' Legion as they had moved. "We can't change what's happened already, but we have to believe that we can come out of this with everyone alive."

"Lady Lyndis put her life in your hands every battle you guided her in," Erk added. "You haven't let her down yet. You won't do so now."

That was right. Mark was their _tactician_. It was his _job_ to make sure everyone stayed alive, even in the face of impossible odds. He and the other had done it before, in the middle of the night as soldiers came pouring down to capture the –

Mark's hand went to his journal, and paused.

"We'll make it through this," he heard himself say. "We _have_ to."

"That's the spirit, Mark!" Serra cheered. "We're behind you all the way!"

"It would be _him_ behind _us_, not the other way around," Erk pointed out. "Otherwise, we'd be the ones giving advice while Mark fought."

"It's the sentiment that counts, Erk, not the wording," Serra declared loftily. "And our sentiment is noble and pure, as befits people like me!"

"Don't argue," Matthew advised. "She just goes on for longer."

"I'll never be free of you, will I?" Mark wondered aloud as Serra started yelling at Matthew. "No matter where I go, there will always be Lyndis' Legion."

"Yes," Dorcas agreed placidly, holding out a hand to keep Serra from hitting Matthew with her staff. "It's like family."

"Family…perhaps." Even as he finally pulled out the journal and began to write, Mark noted that despite Serra being annoyed at Matthew, or Matthew antagonizing the cleric, or Erk's obvious headache from the situation, none of them made a move to leave.


	40. Crash

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

You know how some families make all of their members clean for Christmas even if they're supposed to be on break and such? That's my family and Thanksgiving. Apparently, dust in the rooms people never go in is going to cause them to complain or something like that. I'm very sorry about the delay - I wasn't really able to get on at all once my family started in on their cleaning frenzy.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy the latest chapter! And, for planning purposes, which do you think I should get, Geitz or Wallace? Please tell me what you think.

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#14 – Crash

"Lady Lyndis is beyond that forest," Florina said, red in the face and most definitely not making eye contact with Hector. "She's waiting for a chance to assault the castle."

"She's what?!" Mark demanded. "Ah…"

"Still, it's good to hear that she's safe," Eliwood said, relief plainly written on his face.

"If she's going to take on the remnants of Laus' soldiers on her own, she's not going to be safe for much longer," Mark muttered. Still, he couldn't help but feel some of his anxiety dissipating. Lyn had gotten out of the castle before Marquess Laus had gotten to her…

"Ah…not on her own," Florina corrected, looking up briefly at Mark. "Kent, Sain, and Wil are with her. They'll make sure she's kept safe."

"Florina," Eliwood said, cutting off Mark's retort before it began, "what about Lord Hausen?"

"He's been captured," the girl said. "He's still in the castle."

"I see," Eliwood mused. "Let's go, then!" He looked at Mark expectantly.

"I'd meet up with Lady Lyndis before we go to take the castle," Mark provided. "If she knows that we're here to provide assistance, we can combine forces for the final assault. I'll ask Hannah if she sees anything important we should know." At Eliwood's nod, he left to find the fortune-teller.

"…so, best if you increased your stock in clothing in the near future," she was saying to the merchant. "That's all I see. But maybe you would want to hear it again, yes?"

"No, many thanks, dame Hannah," Merlinus said. "Ah, Sir Mark! I was hoping to pitch my tent here and go into town to purchase and sell my items, as we seem to have stopped."

"There will be a battle coming up soon," Mark warned. "If you want to go into town, they'll likely be closing their gates until the fighting is done. I'd wait for a while. Mistress Hannah, I'd like an augury of the battle to come."

"Heh heh… will you pay the price?" the woman cackled. "Sixty gold!"

"Sixty?" Mark exclaimed. "You only charged fifty last time!"

"But this…this will be an important battle, yes?" Hannah asked. "Of course, if you don't wish to pay the price one way, you'll end up paying it the other…"

"Fine." Mark pulled out the already-prepared bag of fifty gold and added ten pieces to it. "Sixty."

Hannah grabbed the bag and pulled it close to her body. She began muttering, and closed her eyes. "I see a new companion…" she said. "Strong of heart, strong of will. You must combine your strengths and work together."

"Is there anything that will be useful against the enemy?" Mark asked.

"Lances…" Hannah said, dragging out the word. "Yes, lance wielders are invaluable here. Use the woods well. And…you will need magic, yes? And rapiers and hammers, as well." She opened her eyes, and for a moment Mark glimpsed completely white eyes before they returned to normal. "That's it. Unless you'd like to hear it again?"

"Magic…rapiers and hammers…" Mark mused. _Knights or horsemen. Most likely knights._ "No, thank you, Mistress Hannah. You've been of great assistance. I'll come again if I need anything else."

"I'll be seeing you again, I'm sure!" Hannah laughed as Mark made his way back to Eliwood. "Lance users to the front," he reported. "And there's probably a strong knight we'll have to face."

"All right," Eliwood nodded. "We need to send people to the forest where Lyn is, to let her know that she should come here."

"Um…Mark. I could do it," Florina volunteered. "Lady Lyndis will be looking for me, anyways."

"True, but I'm worried about that ballista," Mark said. "If you took to the skies, you might get shot down, and probably without any Lord Hector to land on next time." Florina turned red. "…That was in bad taste. …I apologize."

"N-no, you're right…" Florina said. "I…you're right."

"But it probably _should_ be someone Lyn's familiar with," Mark said, thinking. "And we shouldn't send them alone. I think…Erk, Priscilla, and Guy should do it. Meanwhile, the rest of us should try to eliminate the rest of the forces between here and the castle."

"All right. Let everyone else know that we're moving out as soon as possible." Mark nodded and began to leave, before pausing and turning to Florina. "Are you going to be all right for fighting?" he asked the girl. "That was a nasty crash."

"…Yes," Florina said. "I…I got back up, didn't I? And Huey isn't hurt."

"As long as you're sure," Mark shrugged. "I'll see you on the battlefield, then." As he turned and left to find the three to liaise with Lyn, he thought, _At least Hector was there as a convenient landing pad._


	41. Imprisonment

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Well, well, well, it has been a while, hasn't it? I really don't have an excuse - or, rather, I have plenty of excuses but none of them are particularly good ones. Anyways, thanks to everyone who is checking this from their Author Alerts or the actual FanFiction page, and sorry for the delay.

One of the things that I decided while I wasn't writing this is that most of my frustration from trying to write this was the update schedule that I was keeping. While I'm certainly going to write on more of a usual schedule than once every...three months or so, I'm probably not going to be updating daily any more. Sorry to everyone who appreciated the update schedule.

Nothing really more to say, other than I'm glad to be back, and since I've been away for a while, criticism is greatly appreciated. As always, enjoy!

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#65 – Imprisonment

"Who, besides Lady Lyndis' troop, knows the interior of Castle Caelin?" Mark asked. Although not entirely expected, he was unsurprised when Lord Eliwood raised a hand. As a noble of Lycia, he was more likely to know the layout of another noble's castle. Mark closed his eyes, thinking rapidly. "Lady Lyndis, you said the Caelin guards might be locked away. Where would they be?"

"There's a side passage on the way to the throne room," Lyn ventured. "It leads to the dungeons. I can't really think of anywhere else the Laus forces would think secure."

"All right," Mark said, inclining his head. "We'll split into three groups – one to rescue the Caelin guards, one to reclaim the throne, and one to defend against enemy reinforcements. We'll send a healer with both of the attacking groups. When we rescue the guards, we'll join forces again in the throne room. Lady Lyndis, would you prefer leading the team to rescue the guards, or the team to retake the throne?"

Lyn bit her lip. "I want to find my grandfather, but…the guards need our help, too. I'll help rescue the guards."

"Then Lord Eliwood will lead the group headed towards the throne," Mark said. "Lady Lyndis should be accompanied by those who the Caelin guards will recognize as allies, so I suggest Kent, Sain, Florina, and Wil go with her, as well as a healer…Priscilla. We'll need people with high defensive capabilities to guard the gate from reinforcements. Oswin, Marcus, I trust I can count on you?"

"Of course, Lord Tactician," Oswin replied. "We'll defend it with our lives."

"And everyone else will go up to the throne room," Mark finished. "Let's move! The sooner we reclaim the castle and capture Lord Darin the better." As the group burst into activity, Kent approached Mark.

"I had a thought, Lord Tactician," the cavalier told Mark. "Undoubtedly, the men of Laus are emptying our treasuries and armories for their own purposes. I would like to request that you send someone to reclaim whatever is left before our enemies flee."

"Good idea," Mark said. "Kent, could I send you with Matthew to take care of it?"

"I was hoping to protect Lady Lyndis," Kent told him coldly. "If it's a matter of directions, I can give them to you easily."

"That's not it," Mark said, resisting the urge to yell at the cavalier that not everything was about inconveniencing _him_. "I need someone who can make sure Matthew will exercise restraint, and the only other people capable of doing that are holding the gate. If it really bothers you that much, _I'll_ go with him, but then he isn't provided with support against enemies."

"No," Kent finally said. "It won't be a problem. I'll go." As the cavalier left, presumably to find Matthew and tell him about the plan, Mark pulled Lowen aside. "Change of plans," he told the Pheraen knight. "Kent's doing something, so I'll need you to take his place with Lyn."

"Very well, Mark," Lowen agreed. Mark sighed, rubbing his temple. _While I was gone, I forgot just how 'well' the two of us got along. And now that Lyn says he's been named the Knight-commander of Caelin…Kent will resent my orders even more, won't he? I don't have time to cajole him into action._

"Mark," a voice from behind him called. He turned to face Lord Eliwood.

"The Caelin soldiers are most likely exhausted," the noble continued. "I'd like to protect them and keep them from having to fight. I understand that this makes it difficult for you to plan a strategy mid-battle, but…"

"I understand, Lord Eliwood," Mark agreed. "We can't count on the captured Caelin soldiers to be able to fight, anyways. The unit sent to them should be able to protect the guards, and they'll be coming after the main force has moved through the area, as well. Without reinforcements, nothing should be able to touch the soldiers, let alone cause them to have to fight."

"Thank you," Eliwood said gratefully. "I knew I could count on you, Mark. I'll do my best to take up their share of the fighting."

As he walked away, the quicker-moving members of the group began to advance into the castle. Mark watched as Kent and Matthew peeled off from the group and disappeared down a corridor. The tactician sighed, following the group into the castle. _Time to rescue the imprisoned soldiers._


End file.
